


Piece by Piece

by MollyPollyKinz



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Dissociation, Dream is Tommy's father, Drista is a vodka aunt, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Still plenty of comfort, Tommy needs a hug, Torture, awesamdad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyPollyKinz/pseuds/MollyPollyKinz
Summary: “Tommy,” Sam said quietly, “I hope you know this doesn’t change the way we look at you.”Tommy let out a wet chuckle. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re pitying me right now; I know that’s the only reason you’re doing this.”“No.” Sam’s voice sounded choked. Tommy didn’t understand it. “I’m doing this because I care about you. And I promise that I don’t care who your father is; it doesn’t change the sort of person you are.”Dream is Tommy's father. Sam and Puffy are determined to be the parents Tommy needs.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 1033
Kudos: 2724
Collections: MCYT Fic Rec





	1. Chapter 1

The day started out well enough. Or, at least, as well enough as any day could start for Tommy.

He woke up in a cold sweat, but that wasn’t exactly anything new. He wasn’t sure how long he spent curled up awake in his bed, trying to get the echoes of Dream’s voice out of his head, but he was used to that.

Even as he ate a meager breakfast, what ifs constantly echoed in Tommy’s head. What if Wilbur hadn’t died? What if Tommy hadn’t been such an idiot? What if Tubbo had died that day? What if, what if, what if…

Eventually, he decided to suck it up and just get on outside. He couldn’t think of what could have been; he needed to be in the _now._

As expected, Sam Nook was waiting for him at the construction site, and Tommy was pleased to note that his hotel was making excellent progress.

Sam smiled at Tommy as he approached, and Tommy smiled brightly back. It was funny how smiles were contagious. Tommy had never really thought about it before, but now that there was so much cause to frown, it was nice to know a simple smile could brighten someone’s day.

Maybe that was why Ghostbur always kept smiling.

Sam pulled out his communicator and played the Animal Crossing sound effect.

_HELLO TOMMYINNIT. IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN._

“Hello, Big Man,” Tommy greeted.

_AS YOU CAN SEE, WE HAVE MADE PROGRESS ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE BIG INNIT HOTEL._

Tommy nodded, glancing back up at the structure in progress. “Yeah, I can see that. It looks very good, very poggers.”

_HOWEVER, IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT LITTER HAS BEEN LEFT AROUND THE CONSTRUCTION SITE. THIS MAY DETER FUTURE GUESTS._

“Oh, come on, man,” Tommy groaned, “You don’t seriously want me to pick up trash?”

Sam handed Tommy a garbage bag. _WE NEED YOUR HELP TO PICK UP THE LITTER AND PROTECT THE ENVIRONMENT AROUND THE CONSTRUCTION SITE._

“I’m not a garbage boy, Sam,” Tommy reminded impatiently, “And I’m the one _paying_ you. What if I don’t want to pick up random litter off the ground?”

Sam hesitated, then clicked the button on his communicator. _WE NEED YOUR HELP TO PICKU UP THE LITTER AND PROTECT THE ENVIRONMENT AROUND THE CONSTRUCTION SITE._

Tommy let out another loud and drawn out groan. “Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll pick up your litter.”

Sam smiled. _THANK YOU TOMMYINNIT._

Tommy felt his face grow warm. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” he muttered, turning around and walking away, “This hotel better be the best building on the server when it’s done.”

Sam laughed, and Tommy ignored the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest. He was TommyInnit, for goodness sakes, he didn’t have time for soft emotions. He was as hard as a rock.

…a rock who was picking up garbage off the ground. It wasn’t so bad, though. Well, it _was_ pretty gross, but a good amount of it was just food wrappers. And besides, if it made Sam happy, it wouldn’t kill Tommy to do it.

He figured he just had to get a bag full of trash, getting every little thing was unrealistic, and Sam didn’t strike Tommy as an unrealistic person, even if he cosplayed as an animal crossing character.

Wait a moment. What if Sam _did_ want him to pick up all the garbage? What if he had very specific expectations for how much garbage Tommy picked up? What would happen if Tommy failed?

Tommy froze midway through picking up an empty can.

Tommy knew he was being irrational, ridiculous even. Sam would never hurt him. But he couldn’t dispel the image of a disappointed Dream; he couldn’t get rid of the image of Wilbur’s paranoid shouting.

Tommy had been hit both times.

He didn’t want Sam to hit him.

He would just… go up to Sam and ask. Yeah, he would just ask Sam how much garbage he wanted Tommy to get. It would be fine. Sam wouldn’t mind such a simple question.

_Dream never liked it when he asked questions._

Tommy froze again, this time mid-step. He was stuck. If he didn’t get enough garbage, he would get hurt, but if he asked for clarification, he would get hurt.

Tommy hated being stuck.

“Hi, Tommy!”

Tommy jumped, whirling around. Captain Puffy was walking toward him, smiling warmly. It made him feel marginally better, but he didn’t smile back this time.

Puffy frowned slightly. “Woah, Tommy, are you okay?”

Tommy suppressed a wince; he didn’t mean to make Puffy worried. That seemed to be all he was ever good for, making people worried.

Tommy plastered on a smile. “Just peachy,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained to Puffy as it did to him, “How are you?”

Puffy still looked doubtful, but she smiled again and said, “I’m good! You doing things for Nook?”

Tommy glanced down at the black garbage bag in his hand. “Uh yeah! Something about ‘Protecting the environment around the build site’ or whatever he said.”

“Cool! Do you want help?” Puffy asked, “It’s fine if you don’t.”

Tommy thought about it. He _would_ get more done with Puffy’s help, and he couldn’t deny that Puffy’s presence was calming. Not that he needed calming or anything like that, he was a big man. But he couldn’t deny Puffy if she wanted to help him so badly, that wouldn’t be very chivalrous.

He shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”

Puffy’s smile grew wider. “Great!”

And that’s how Tommy found himself crouched on the ground with Captain Puffy, picking up garbage, chatting about meaningless things.

It wasn’t until Puffy became abruptly still and silent when Tommy noticed something was wrong. Had he said something? Oh god, he probably screwed something up. And that would be just like him, wouldn’t it?

“Puffy?” He asked, nervously, “Are you alright? I’m sorry if I said something—“

Puffy snapped to attention suddenly, shoving something into her pocket. Tommy hadn’t even noticed she was holding anything.

“You didn’t do anything,” she said calmly, “Don’t worry about it.” She hesitated. “Actually… I think we’ve gathered enough litter. Let’s go back to Sam.”

Tommy was properly confused now. But he followed Puffy back to the platform where Sam stood.

Sam smiled when he saw them, but Tommy only managed a weak smile back. In his defense, the day had been draining on his emotions, and it had barely started.

 _WELCOME BACK TOMMYINNIT._ Sam sent, playing the funny animal sound effect. _GOOD WORK ON COLLECTING THE LITTER. NOW THE CONSTRUCTION SITE IS ENVIRONMENT FRIENDLY._

Relief filled Tommy at the words. Sam was happy. Sam was pleased with his work. The tension in his muscles drained out of him.

“No problem, Big Man.” Tommy put the now quite heavy garbage bag down with a thump.

Puffy walked up to Sam and muttered something Tommy couldn’t hear. Immediately, he felt himself tense again. Were they talking about him?

Tommy watched as Puffy handed Sam a small, square piece of paper. Sam took it and looked down at it. His head snapped back up at Tommy.

Tommy froze. This was it. Sam would realize what a useless, selfish screw-up Tommy was and stop building for him. He should’ve seen it coming; he should’ve known it was too good to last.

“Um, Tommy?” Sam said quietly, forgoing the communicator.

Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets, hopefully hiding the shaking. He wanted to say something casual, but all he could manage was a simple,

“Yeah?”

His voice was shaking. Tommy hated himself for it.

Sam looked hesitant, like he was feeling bad that he was about to kick Tommy out of his life. He shouldn’t feel bad. Tommy only ever caused problems for everyone.

_You brought attachment to this server._

If it weren’t for him, maybe Wilbur wouldn’t be dead. Maybe Tubbo wouldn’t have nearly lost all three of his lives. Maybe everyone would be happy.

“Um… “

Sam sighed, and Tommy flinched. Tommy noticed that he had begun curling in himself, and immediately straightened his back.

For some reason, Sam winced at that.

“Sorry. Um, yeah, you just might want to see this.”

He held the piece of paper toward Tommy.

Tommy blinked, staring at the piece of paper. “What?”

Sam let out a shaky breath. “Uh, I don’t think I can explain, just, just take the photo.”

Oh, maybe Sam wasn’t going to kick Tommy out after all. Tommy let out a sigh of overwhelming relief and took the photo.

“You scared me, big man, I thought you were about to—” Tommy glanced down at the photo and froze.

Tommy stared down at the photograph, cold shock seeping into his bones.

Puffy was next to him. She was saying something, but Tommy couldn’t hear. The world buzzed around him like a billion of Tubbo’s bees. He could barely think.

Because _Dream_ stood in the center of the photograph, and Tommy _knew_ it was Dream. Even without his mask, Tommy knew what the man looked like. He knew because Dream had showed him, during exile, during that nightmare fueled by manipulation and abuse.

And Tommy wouldn’t have minded if Dream was the only one in the photograph. He would just burn it, and that would be pretty fun.

No, what bothered him was that there was something in Dream’s arms, a baby, to be precise.

The baby had Dream’s blonde hair, but instead of green, the baby’s eyes were blue. He was laughing at something, maybe at how ugly his father’s face was.

But the worst part was the little caption on the bottom of the page.

_My Little Tommy_

Tommy vaguely realized he wasn’t breathing anymore. The world closed around him.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the hard, wooden surface of the platform. Puffy ad Sam’s faces swam in his vision.

“Oh my god, Tommy are you alright?” Puffy cried out.

Sam helped Tommy into a sitting position.

Tommy laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. He grabbed the photograph, wanting nothing more than the crush it in his fist, but he didn’t. Instead he stared at the picture blankly.

“This is a lie,” Tommy said, his voice sounding pathetic, “Tell me this is a lie.”

Sam pulled Tommy into an embrace, one that Tommy hadn’t received since Wilbur started his descent, and it took everything Tommy had not to burst into tears then and there.

“It doesn’t matter,” Puffy said firmly, “He’s not your father. He lost that right.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the hot tear that rolled down his cheek.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, “I don’t—I don’t _understand_.”

Sam held him closer, and Tommy found himself clutching onto the man’s shirt like it was his only lifeline to this world.

“Is this why he refuses to kill me?”

Tommy stared up at the sky, noting that it was a perfect blue. That was insulting. It should be pouring. It should be raining and thundering like the tempest in Tommy’s chest.

Tommy laughed, mildly hysterically.

“Is this why?!” he screamed, “He talks about getting rid of attachments, but he refuses to kill his own son?!”

“Tommy—” Sam began, but Tommy interrupted him, hardening his voice.

“I want to go to the prison.”

“What?”

Tommy let go of Sam and pushed himself away, stumbling to his feet. “I want to go to the prison,” he repeated.

Sam stood up as Puffy spoke, “Tommy… I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“And why not?” Tommy demanded, “Why shouldn't I be able to speak to my own father?”

“First of all,” Sam said, “We don’t know for sure that he’s your father; he could be your older brother or something like that.” Like that’s any better. “Second of all, regardless of his relation to you, he is still your _abuser,_ and you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state.”

“So?” Tommy demanded, “It’s not like I’m going to listen to any of his manipulation; I’m not _stupid.”_

Except he was. He was stupid, pathetic, selfish, and cowardly. Even now, he was being rude to some of the only people who treated him with any sort of respect on this server.

“Nobody said you were,” Puffy said calmly, like she hadn’t been sassed by an impudent teenager, “But you don’t have to be manipulated to still get hurt by his words.”

“We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Sam agreed.

_“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Dream muttered into Tommy’s hair one night, “And you always get into danger when you disobey me, Toms.”_

_“I know,” Tommy whispered, his voice shuddering, “I’m sorry.”_

“I’m going,” Tommy said firmly, “I can take care of myself.”

“Listen,” Sam said, “If you feel so strongly about this—”

“I do,” Tommy said quickly.

Sam held up his pointer finger. “ _And_ if you _still_ feel so strongly about this _tomorrow_ , you can visit him _then,_ after all of this has properly sunk in.”

Tommy frowned. “Won’t it be worse if everything’s properly sunk in? Won’t I be _more_ upset?”

“Maybe,” Puffy agreed, “But you’ll be less likely to do something you’ll regret when the news is a little less new.”

Tommy supposed that made sense… a little. He had a sneaking suspicion that Sam and Puffy just wanted him to take a day to reconsider. Maybe that was their entire point. Maybe they didn’t want Tommy to throw himself in an emotionally vulnerable situation with Dream without thinking about it.

“Oh,” Tommy said, “That’s actually kind of smart.”

Sam let out a small chuckle. “I’m glad you think so.” He gave Tommy a warm smile. “So, do you want to keep working, or do you want to take the rest of the day off at my place?”

Tommy hesitated. A part of him wanted to keep working, to keep going along with Sam Nook’s tasks as if nothing had happened. Another part of him was afraid that he would find even _more_ earth-shattering news in the midst of it, and Tommy didn’t think he’d be able to handle any more emotional strain in a morning.

Besides, there’s was something strangely attractive about curling up with Fran and pretending that Tommy’s world hadn’t just been turned upside down.

“Your place,” Tommy admitted quietly, “if you’re willing, obviously, I don’t want to intrude or anything like that.”

Sam’s lips quirked. “I asked, didn’t I? Do you want Puffy to come along?”

Tommy glanced at Puffy, who also looked incredibly welcoming. “Um… only if she wants to.”

He braced himself for rejection.

“I don’t have anything better to do today,” Puffy said, “I don’t see why I can’t spend it with you guys.” She smiled. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Sam.”

Sam laughed. Tommy smiled in spite of himself.

He didn’t quite understand, though. Tommy wasn’t a good person; time had proved that again and again. And now, he was probably the son of the worst person on the entire server. Sam and Puffy should hate him, not offer him comfort.

Still, Tommy decided not to complain; that would be ungrateful, even if he would be doing them a favor in the long run.

Sam’s house was far away, but the journey didn’t feel that long. Tommy was beginning to feel numb.

 _Dream_ could be his father. _Dream,_ the man who abused and manipulated him, could be his father. _Dream_ could be the man who put him into an orphanage and never looked back. Except he must’ve looked back; why else would the picture be in the SMP if he didn’t regret his actions a little bit?

Did he even want Dream to miss him?

 _Yes._ A small, traitorous part of him whispered. Tommy squashed it down. He didn’t care how Dream felt about him. Dream was a terrible person; Tommy didn’t owe anything to him.

They arrived at Sam’s house, and Fran ran up to them, barking eagerly.

“Hello, Fran,” Sam said, giving her a scratch behind the ears, “Why don’t you give Tommy some company?”

Tommy blinked as Fran obediently trotted up to Tommy. “No, Sam, I’m alright.”

Sam waved his hand like he was swatting away a fly. “It’s no trouble. Besides, Fran likes strangers. She also likes being pet.”

“Well, in that case, I suppose I can’t refuse her, can I?” Tommy asked, conjuring up some of his old bravado.

“I don’t think so,” Sam agreed.

Tommy let out an exaggerated sigh as he crouched down on the ground, sinking his fingers into Fran’s soft fur.

“If you don’t mind, Sam, I’m going to make some hot chocolate,” Puffy said, pointing toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Would you like some?”

It took Tommy a moment to realize that Sam was talking to him. He snapped his head back up toward Sam.

Sam didn’t look impatient with him. As a matter of fact, he looked so patient that Tommy wondered if he wasn’t living in some strange dream. A dream where Dream is Tommy’s father (or brother), and Sam hasn’t gotten sick of Tommy’s stupidity.

Then again, Tommy couldn’t really remember a time that Sam ever got _truly_ impatient with him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’ll have some,” Tommy said, continuing to pet Fran’s fur, “Um, thanks.”

Puffy smiled. Why was everyone smiling so much? There wasn’t anything special about Tommy.

“No problem,” she said, “Besides, I think we could all use some hot chocolate after this morning.”

Well, she got that right.

“Come on,” Sam said gently, “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch.”

Tommy got up and walked to the couch; Fran followed and leaped onto the couch next to him, much to Tommy’s relief. Petting her was very soothing to his nerves, not that he would ever admit it.

Tommy began sinking his fingers into Fran’s soft fur again, and Fran put her head in Tommy’s lap. Tommy felt mildly surprised, but that didn’t stop him from scratching Fran behind the ears. Tommy couldn’t hold a smile back from his face when Fran leaned into the touch contentedly.

And then Tommy remembered leaning into Dream’s touches, and a sick feeling rose up in his throat.

Was that how Dream saw him? Nothing more than a dog he needed to train?

Before, Tommy had come to terms with Dream’s actions while Tommy was in exile. He understood what Dream had done was wrong, that Tommy hadn’t—well he maybe deserved it, but it wasn’t right. Tommy understood that Dream never saw Tommy as his friend, only as a toy that was fun to break.

But now? The wound felt rawer. Why would Dream treat him that way if Tommy was his son? Did he really care in his own convoluted way?

_“I’m only doing this because I love you,” Dream said after punishing him._

_“I know,” Tommy whispered, “I love you too.”_

Tommy swallowed back the lump in his throat, carefully cuddling into Fran. She didn’t seem to mind the cuddling. Tommy was glad; she was very warm and soft.

Sam sat down on the other side of the couch, maybe a couple of feet away from Tommy.

“Tommy,” Sam said quietly, “I hope you know this doesn’t change the way we look at you.”

Tommy let out a wet chuckle. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re pitying me right now; I know that’s the only reason you’re doing this.”

“ _No_.” Sam’s voice sounded choked. Tommy didn’t understand it. “I’m doing this because I _care_ about you. And I promise that I don’t care who your father is; it doesn’t change the sort of person you are.”

Tommy looked away. He couldn’t stand to see that sad look on Sam’s face. “It might,” he muttered.

Puffy came in, bringing a tray of hot chocolate.

She must’ve overheard, because as she handed Tommy a red mug, she said, “It doesn’t. I promise it doesn’t.”

Another lump formed in Tommy’s throat, and he stared down into his mug, not trusting himself not to speak at all.

“Okay,” he finally managed, his voice cracking.

Sam and Puffy were kind enough not to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hit with a sudden craving for more Sam and Tommy content mixed with angst, so here we are.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That depends." Dream’s voice became suddenly subdued, but Tommy knew better than to trust it. “What do you want the truth about?”
> 
> “Are you my father?”

Tommy was three, sitting in Dream’s lap and pointing to pictures in his picture book.

“Cow goes moo!” he giggled, pointing to the cow.

He looked up at Dream, who wasn’t wearing his mask. Dream smiled and laughed. “What noise does the sheep make?”

“Baaaa,” Tommy said exaggeratedly.

“And the pig?”

“Oink!”

“Wow, you’re getting too smart for me!” Tommy beamed. “Hmm…” Dream smiled mischievously. “What sound does the Tommy make?” he asked.

Tommy put his hands on his hips proudly. “I make the best sound!”

“Oh?” Dream tilted his head, his green eyes full of warmth. “What is it, then?”

Tommy crossed his arms and stuck his nose up into the air. “I make _words.”_

“Really?” Dream laughed. “Because I thought you made something much better.”

“Like what?” Tommy demanded.

Dream booped Tommy’s nose, and Tommy let out a high-pitched giggle, covering up his nose with his small, toddler hands.

“There it is,” Dream said.

“What?” Tommy demanded, “There what is?”

“Your laughter, silly!” Dream ruffled Tommy’s hair, and Tommy let out another giggle. “You have the best laugh.”

“Really?”

“Yep!” Dream smiled warmly. “Of course, I’m your Daddy, so I may be a _little_ biased.”

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“Because I love you, of course.” Dream pulled Tommy into a hug, and Tommy hugged back, clutching onto Dream’s soft hoody.

“I love you too, Daddy,” Tommy muttered.

And suddenly they were on the beach, and Tommy was older, and Dream was wearing that stupid mask.

“Armor in the hole, Tommy,” Dream said, his voice hard.

Tommy stumbled back, his heart ramming against his ribs. “What? I-I don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Armor in the hole, or I kill Tubbo.”

Tommy snapped his head around. Tubbo was standing there without armor, looking frightened out of his mind.

When did Tubbo get here?

Tommy quickly put the armor in the hole, and he winced when Dream lit the TNT.

“Now, come here,” Dream said, opening his arms up welcomingly.

Tommy ran into his father’s embrace, craving the warmth, craving the love. Dream carded his fingers through Tommy’s hair, and Tommy let out a shuddering sob.

“You know I’m only doing this because I love you,” Dream whispered.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I love you too.”

Tommy came to awareness slowly.

The first thing he noticed was the warm blanket wrapped around him. The soft mattress underneath him followed. A pillow sat comfortably underneath his head.

That’s right. He wasn’t at Logstedshire. He was at Sam’s house. Dream wasn’t here.

He burrowed deeper underneath the covers, not opening his eyes. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He didn’t want to do much of anything, really.

The dream had just been so _odd._ Tommy wasn’t sure if he would count it as a nightmare. It hadn’t been that upsetting. Heck, at first, it was almost nice.

Or it would be if it weren’t for the fact that toddler Tommy had been sitting _Dream’s_ lap. That Dream actually acted like a decent person. That in another life, Tommy might have actually had a father like that. A father who didn’t leave on adventures with Techno, leaving his older brother to practically raise him.

Then again, Dream might’ve still turned out bad in the end, so maybe it was for the best that Tommy didn’t get raised by the man. It was hard enough watching Wilbur’s descent.

He just didn’t _understand._ Why was Dream like this? Why did Dream give him up in the first place?

Did he even want to know?

…no. Tommy _needed_ to know, lest this haunt him his entire life.

Tommy opened his eyes and slowly heaved himself out of bed, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes. Groggily, Tommy made his way out of the bedroom Sam had shown him to the other night and walked into the living area.

Sam was sitting on the couch, reading a book of some kind; Fran was sitting on his lap.

When Tommy entered the room, Sam looked up from his book. “Hey, Tommy,” he said quietly, “How are you feeling?”

Tommy forced a smile. “Never better,” he said, “I’m feeling very refreshed, Sam-I-Am. I feel like a glass of water; I am so very refreshed.”

Sam laughed. “Puffy’s making pancakes,” he said. He hummed glancing at the ceiling. “You know, maybe I should keep her around more. I would never have to cook again.”

Tommy shook his head, tutting. “Keeping a woman around just for her cooking, how very sexist of you.”

“True,” Sam agreed, “I guess I’ll keep her around because we’re friends.”

Tommy nodded in approval. “Much better,” he said.

Speaking of Puffy, her voice echoed across the house. “Breakfast is ready!”

“Well, that’s our cue,” Sam said, taking Fran off of his lap and standing up, “Coming!”

Tommy followed Sam into the kitchen. Puffy was placing a large plate of pancakes on the island counter.

“Good morning!” she said brightly to Tommy.

Tommy smiled wearily. “Morning.”

Sam climbed onto one of the chairs around the island, and Tommy followed, sitting beside him. Puffy placed two empty plates in front of Sam and Tommy.

“Take as many as you’d like,” Puffy said, scooping a couple of pancakes onto her own plate, “There’s still some batter left, so I can make more if I need to.”

“Awesome, thank you, Puffy,” Sam said, placing two pancakes on his plate.

Puffy smiled. “It’s no problem.” She leaned in conspiratorially toward Tommy. “I think he’s just happy he has someone to cook his breakfast.”

Tommy nodded sagely. “You know, I do believe I heard him mention something along those lines earlier.”

Puffy gasped dramatically. “Sam! I feel so betrayed.”

Sam laughed. “Aw, you know that’s not why I like you.” He took a bite and swallowed. “They’re actually really good.”

Tommy cautiously put two pancakes on his own plate, glancing at Sam and Puffy. Neither of them condemned him for taking too much food, so he slowly picked up his fork and took a bite.

It was the fluffiest and most delicious pancake he had ever had. Then again, maybe his standards were a tad low, most of his breakfasts recently had been half stale.

Still, they were some really good pancakes.

Tommy chewed and swallowed. “These are very poggers,” he told Puffy, “Very good work.”

“Aww, thank you,” Puffy said.

Tommy ate both of his pancakes rather quickly. The plate at the center of the table still had about four pancakes, but he didn’t want to be selfish. Dream didn’t like it when he was selfish.

Sam glanced at Tommy. “You can have more,” he said, giving Tommy a small smile, “I was a bottomless pit when I was your age.”

“I knew that,” Tommy said quickly, immediately putting two more pancakes onto his plate, “I just wanted to enjoy the moment.”

“Well, you can enjoy as many moments as you would like,” Puffy said, “But know that you can eat as much as you want, as long as you don’t make yourself sick.”

Tommy’s mouth was full, so he nodded.

As Tommy was polishing off his fifth pancake, Sam put his fork down on his plate with a small clink.

“So,” he said, his voice more serious than before, “We need to talk about the plan for today.”

Tommy swallowed his food quickly. “Okay.”

Sam took a deep breath. “I want you to be completely honest with me, Tommy,” he said, “Do you still want to visit Dream?”

Tommy looked down at his lap, twisting his fingers with his hands. “I, uh—” He swallowed. “—I’m not sure I _want_ to, but-but I do think I _need_ to.”

He glanced up at Sam at Puffy. They weren’t scowling, but there were small frowns on their faces.

“Okay,” Sam said slowly, “Do you think you can lay out your reasons for me?”

Tommy glanced back down. “I, um, I don’t think I can ever really, I don’t know, accept this, I guess, if I don’t at least _try_ to get answers. Maybe, maybe if he can explain, I can receive closure, or something like that.”

“And if you don’t get answers?” Puffy asked quietly.

Tommy looked back up at them, managing a shaky smile. “Then I don’t need him anyway. I’ll track down Sapnap or George to see if they know anything, or something like that. But, I want to try to hear it from him first.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “Okay, I’m not going to stop you.”

Tommy waited for the _but._

“But, if I think things are going too far, I’m pulling you out of there.”

Tommy nodded quickly. “That’s fine,” he said quickly, “I’ll try not to let that happen.”

“We won’t be upset if you have to get pulled out,” said Puffy kindly, “If anyone, we’ll be mad at Dream.”

Tommy pretended he didn’t feel relief at the statement. “Okay.”

They went through the security protocols mechanically.

Right before Tommy got on the moving bridge, Sam said, “Just, don’t let him get to you, okay?”

Tommy smiled, trying to look more confident than he felt. “Don’t worry, big man. Nobody can get to the great Tommy Innit."

Sam smiled. “Right. Just, be careful, okay?”

Tommy nodded with more solemnity this time around. “I will,” he said.

As the bridge took him to his destination, anxiety began rising up within Tommy, like a rope squeezing around his chest. He took a deep breath.

Dream couldn't hurt him. All Tommy was going to do was ask a few questions. He got this. 

Nervousness thrummed in his veins as he stepped off the bridge and into the cell. Dream stood in front of him.

Dream, the man who had manipulated him, the man who could very well be his _father._

Tommy tried to keep his hands from shaking.

He failed.

“Hello, Tomathy,” Dream said casually, his lips tilting upwards, “This was an unexpected visit. Did you miss me?”

Tommy scoffed. “Feel bad for you maybe.”

Dream sighed disappointedly, and Tommy tensed. Dream didn’t hit him, though. Instead, he sat down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling.

“What do you want?”

Tommy clenched his teeth and tightened his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms painfully, but Tommy didn’t care.

“I want the truth,” Tommy snarled, grateful that his voice wasn’t shaking, “For once in your life, Dream, I want you to tell me the damn truth.”

Dream laughed, and this time, Tommy couldn’t hide his flinch.

“That depends." Dream’s voice became suddenly subdued, but Tommy knew better than to trust it. “What do you want the truth about?”

“Are you my father?”

Dream snapped his attention toward Tommy and frowned, tilting his head slightly. Tommy instinctively stepped away.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the bubbling lava curtain behind him. Tommy hated it.

“Well, are you going to answer?” Tommy demanded, in a desperate attempt to fill the silence, “Or are you just going to sit there, looking pathetic?”

“What do you want me to say, Tommy?” Dream asked tiredly, looking back up at the ceiling.

For a moment, Tommy was afraid that he couldn’t speak at all. He thought of Sam, watching the entire scene through security cameras, ready to get Tommy out the minute it was too much. For whatever reason, the thought made Tommy feel safe, and he gathered the courage to speak.

“I want the truth,” Tommy repeated.

Dream let out a breathless chuckle. “Okay, in that case…” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I am your father.”

No. _No._

Tommy took several steps back, his breathing becoming shallow. “No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered, “You’re lying. You’re lying.”

Dream hummed. “Why would I lie about this?”

Tommy sputtered. “You-you always lie,” Tommy said, “That’s all you ever do.”

Dream stood up and stepped toward Tommy, who forced himself not to curl in on himself.

“Well, if you’re going to refuse to believe me, why did you ask in the first place?” Dream asked, his voice slightly dark, “How did you even find out anyway?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Tommy said, his voice wavering. He needed to get out of here, but he couldn’t stand the idea of calling for Sam himself, of retreating from Dream. “Who was my mother?”

Hopefully the personal question would get Dream to call for Sam himself.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Dream said quietly.

“Who was my mother?” Tommy asked with more fierceness this time. Even though he had only intended for this question to be a way for Dream to call for Sam, Tommy had a sudden urge to know. “Who was stupid enough to fall in love with you?”

“Guard!” Dream called, ignoring him.

Tommy had never been more relieved to get onto that moving bridge away from Dream.

Sam was waiting for him.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked quietly.

Tommy hesitated before nodding. “Maybe,” he conceded.

He sunk into the warmth of Sam’s arms, trying to hold back the sob that bubbled up in his throat.

So, there was no doubt about it now. Dream was his father. Dream was the man who loved his mother. Dream was the man that was there for Tommy’s birth. Dream was the man who carried Tommy in his arms as he cried in the middle of the night.

Dream was also the man that basically took two of Tommy’s lives. Dream was also the man who had Tommy exiled. Dream was the man who hurt and manipulated him. Dream was the man who destroyed L’manberg, threatened Tubbo’s life, and tried to put Tommy in the very prison Dream was in now.

There was no running from the truth now. Unless Dream was lying, but there was none of the usual self-assured confidence in his words this time.

Tommy let out a broken sob.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize,” Sam whispered, “You did so well.”

“I’m being pathetic.” Tommy shut his eyes tightly, clinging to Sam. “He barely even said anything.”

“He told you he was your father,” Sam said, “I would argue that that’s a pretty big thing.”

Tommy let out a mildly hysterical laugh. Because nothing was ever going to be the same again. Hadn’t Dream ruined his life enough?

“Besides,” Sam added, “Even if he hadn’t said that, he’s still hurt you. There’s no shame in that.”

“Everyone is going to hate me,” Tommy muttered.

“Tubbo won’t hate you.” Sam held Tommy closer. “And Ghostbur won’t hate you. Puffy won’t hate you. I don’t hate you. And anybody who hates you for this will prove that they don’t deserve you anyway.”

“Okay.” Tommy let out a shuddering breath. “Okay.”

They slowly walked out of the prison, meeting up with Puffy outside.

“How’d it go?” she asked carefully.

“It’s true,” Tommy said, feeling it better to get the truth out as soon as possible, “He’s my father. Biologically I mean, I don’t see him as a father figure or anything like that, that would be revolting.”

“Oh,” Puffy said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tommy muttered, scuffing the dirt with the bottom of his shoe, “It’s not like you asked him to be a massive jerk.”

There was a small pause.

“So,” Sam said gently, “What do you want to do now? We can go back to the construction site, if you want a distraction. Or you could go visit Tubbo, with us or by yourself, it’s your choice. And if you really wanted to—” Sam took a deep breath. “—you can visit Sapnap and George.”

“Uh…”

Tommy really wanted answers, but he wasn’t sure he could handle much more of the raw truth today.

“Could I visit Tubbo, please? Alone?”

Sam nodded with a smile. “Okay, kiddo. Promise me you’ll stay safe?”

Tommy smiled. “You can count on me. They call me the safety man for a reason, you know. I have my safety gear to prove it and everything.”

Sam laughed.

“Have fun,” Puffy said, “Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay _Mum.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst is angsty. Puffy really summoning that mom energy in this chapter. 
> 
> Sorry for any errors! Hope you enjoyed! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy swallowed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I… uh… you see…” Tommy let out a shuddering breath. “Damnit,” he muttered.
> 
> Why was this so hard? Tommy should just be able to go out and say it. Dream is his father. End of story, take it or leave it. Easy. Done.

When he arrived at Snowchester, he found Tubbo talking to Jack Manifold.

Because of course Jack had to be here. Wonderful. Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.

Tommy rubbed his hands together and sighed, trying to ignore the biting cold. He should’ve thought to have brought a coat. That sort of stupidity was typical of him, though.

He just had to act like nothing at all was wrong in the world, because why on earth would anything be wrong? There was absolutely nothing going on in Tommy’s life; it wasn’t like Dream was Tommy’s father, and Tommy hadn’t known this until basically an hour ago, and his life was never going to be the same again.

Tommy took another deep breath. He had the situation under control. Just… act natural.

“Hey guys!” he said cheerfully, finally walking up to Tubbo and Jack properly, “Tubbo, Mr. Manifold. How goes it?”

Tommy tries to ignore the strange look Jack gives him and instead focuses on Tubbo’s bright smile.

“Tommy! It’s good to see you! I didn’t see you yesterday, where were you at?”

Tommy cringed. “Just around,” he said vaguely. He glanced back at Jack, who had a smile that seemed just a little too wide. Tommy snapped his eyes back to Tubbo and said suddenly, “You know how I was talking about _Avengers: Endgame_ the other day, Tubbo?”

Tubbo nodded. “Oh yeah, what of it?”

“Well, I changed my mind,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure I’m much like Peter Parker. I’m more like that green woman—”

“Gamora?” Tubbo offered.

Tommy nodded. “Yes, Gamora, that’s the one. Yes, well I was just thinking about her, and her crappy father, and you know we both have crappy fathers, so I thought we were pretty similar in that respect, though my father is green and not purple, so I suppose there’s that, but—”

“I’m not sure I would call Phil green anymore,” Jack cut in suddenly, “He’s wearing that blue outfit now.”

Tommy flinched. He had almost forgotten Jack was there, being too caught up in his metaphorical rant that he should _not_ be having in front of Jack Manifold of all people.

“Right,” Tommy blurted, trying to pretend he was talking about Phil this entire time, “You’re right, Jack, my bad.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Tubbo laughed. “Anyway, Tommy, please continue.”

Despite the coldness of the air, Tommy felt his face flush. “Um… right, as I was saying, both of our fathers have uh… participated in mass destruction, and hurt us saying we’d thank them for it, and killed people we care about, and manipulated…” Tommy looked away swallowing back the lump that rose in his throat. “You know what I think would be really cool, Tubbo?”

“What?” Tubbo asked, not even sounding startled that Tommy flipped the subject so suddenly. They were best friends for a reason, after all; Tommy knew Tubbo was used to Tommy’s abrupt changes in conversation topic.

“Having wings,” Tommy said, “Actually, scratch that, because that would make me biologically related to _Phil,_ and he’s a jerk. You know what I really want?”

He didn’t wait for Tubbo to reply. “A moth. And her name would be Clementine, and I would be the _best_ owner Clementine ever had, and I wouldn’t leave her, or go insane, or take away her things, or try to kill her friend because those would not be very pog of me to do, and it would not make me a very pog owner.”

Damn the burning in his eyes and throat. Tommy sniffed loudly. “And I want to be a pog owner, unlike all of Clementine’s other owners, who were all jerks.”

“Tommy?” Tubbo asked quietly.

Tommy grinned, wiping his nose. “Ah, all this cold weather, y’know what it does to my sinuses. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed my predicament sooner. You really are a crap friend.”

Tubbo laughed. Jack stayed silent.

The laughter on Tubbo’s face morphed into concern. “You really shouldn’t be out without a jacket,” he said, “Here, come with me, I’ll find you one of mine.”

Tommy made a face. “Ew, I don’t want to wear one of your ugly jackets, Tubbo.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Well, you should’ve thought of that before you came to a land literally named _Snow_ chester without a coat of your own.”

Tubbo turned around and started walking down the path, and Tommy reluctantly followed. He tried not to look too uncomfortable as Jack started trailing behind. He was being stupid; he was being paranoid. Jack wasn’t going to hurt him.

Sam hadn’t doubted him when Tommy said Jack was acting suspicious.

Tommy still kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help but to glance at Jack with slight discomfort.

Tubbo must’ve noticed his discomfort. The advantages of being best friends and all.

“You don’t have to follow us, Jack,” Tubbo said cheerfully, “We’re just getting a coat, nothing overly exciting about that. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Something flashed across Jack’s face before he smiled easily. “No, no, I don’t mind boring; it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Did Tommy make it up, or was Jack staring at Tommy when he said those last words?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tubbo said, a little more forcefully this time, “Besides, I want to talk to Tommy about something real quick.”

It was an obvious dismissal. Jack grimaced, but he stopped walking.

When they were further down the path, Tommy glanced behind him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Jack still standing there and –it was hard to tell from this distance—seemingly staring at Tommy and Tubbo as they got farther and farther away.

“Thanks man,” Tommy muttered as they entered one of the buildings.

Tubbo smiled “It was no problem.” Tubbo walked over to a chest and started rifling through it. "Besides—” He pulled out a coat, stood up, and gave Tommy a concerned look. “—I had a feeling you wanted to talk to me in private.”

Tommy winced. He hadn’t meant to make Tubbo worried.

“Sorry,” he said, taking the coat and shoving it on.

Tubbo blinked. “What for?”

Tommy shrugged, carefully looking at the stone floor. “Interrupting your conversation with Jack, worrying you, taking your coat.”

“Oh, don’t be!” Tubbo exclaimed quickly, “First off, Jack and I weren’t talking about anything particularly important, especially compared to you talking about bad fathers. Secondly, you didn’t even want to take the coat in the first place, and finally, I’m your friend; I’m allowed to worry about you sometimes.”

Tommy smiled. “You got that right.”

Tubbo sat down on the couch near the back of the room, and Tommy followed suit, sitting next to him. Neither of them spoke.

Each second of silence felt like another nail being hammered into Tommy’s coffin, so he finally said, “I need to tell you something.”

“Alright,” Tubbo said calmly.

Tommy swallowed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I… uh… you see…” Tommy let out a shuddering breath. “Damnit,” he muttered.

Why was this so _hard?_ Tommy should just be able to go out and _say_ it. Dream was his father. End of story, take it or leave it. Easy. Done.

Instead, it felt as if his lungs closed off the minute he got close to saying Dream’s name.

“You don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to,” Tubbo said calmly, like Tommy wasn’t having a crisis right in front of him.

“ _No.”_ Tubbo winced, and Tommy grimaced. That came out more harshly than he intended. He put his head in his hands and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice now slightly muffled.

“That’s alright.”

Tommy sat up, tightening his hands into fists. He had to do this. He _had_ to.

“My father…” Oh god, why couldn’t he just say the damn words already?

“Oh, how about this?” Tubbo said. His eyes were bright, almost like a lightbulb had literally gone off somewhere inside his head. “How about we play twenty questions, and I’ll guess what you’re trying to say?”

Tommy held back a laugh. Only Tubbo would turn one of the hardest confessions of his life into a game. “That sounds really dumb and childish.” _Just like Tommy._ “But… go for it. “

Tubbo brightened. “Okay! Um, does it have to do with your father?”

Tommy nodded.

“Phil?”

“No.”

Tubbo frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. “Your biological dad then?”

Tommy let out another shuddering breath, massaging his eyes. He had to keep it together. Just yes or no, remember? Just yes or no.

“Yeah.”

“Okay… um, did you find out who he is?”

Tommy nodded.

“Um… I would rather not start spouting off people, so let’s see if I can’t narrow it down. Do I know him?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure how you could list people you don’t actually know.”

Tubbo smiled. “Good point. Still, I’ll need an answer.”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered, returning his gaze to the floor, “Yeah, you know him.”

“Well, that’s good, it means I’ll be able to guess.” Tubbo hummed thoughtfully. “Um… you mentioned green before… Oh! Is it Sam?”

Tommy straightened, looking up at Tubbo in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

Tubbo scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess that’s a no.” He shrugged. “Well, he’s kinda green, and he seems to be pretty protective of you, so…”

Tommy slouched again. “I wish,” he muttered. Anyone would be better than Dream.

“Okay, let me try again… uh… don’t tell me it’s Slimecicle.”

Tommy snorted. “It is most definitely not Slimecicle.”

“Um… let me think,” he muttered, “Green, green, green. I think I might have to narrow it down a little bit more. Um… does he have your hair color?”

Tommy shrugged. “More or less.”

“Okay… what about eyes?”

He doubted that would make much of a difference, considering that Dream wore a mask, but Tommy just said, “No.”

“Well, that would rule out Phil if he weren’t already off the list,” Tubbo muttered, “Uh, is he tall?”

Tommy thought of Dream towering over him, despite only being a few inches taller, and shuddered. “Yeah, big man. He’s tall.”

“Wow, he must really be tall if _you’re_ saying that.” Tubbo leaned back on the couch. “Do I like him?”

Tommy snorted, combing his hair back with his fingers. “I hope not.”

 _Tommy clutched onto Tubbo’s wrist, refusing to let go. Because Tubbo couldn’t die, Tommy_ refused _to let Tubbo die. “What am I without you?”_

_Tubbo smiled, so sincere, so accepting. “Yourself.”_

Tubbo looked up at the ceiling. “Well, there’s no way it could be Dream, so—”

Tommy interrupted Tubbo with uncharacteristically hysterical giggle. His entire body shook as his giggling turned into full out laughter.

Tubbo let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I know, it’s pretty ridiculous to even consider…” His voice softened. “Tommy?”

Tommy wasn’t sure when his laughter turned into full blown sobs, tears running down his face like he was seven again and Phil couldn’t be bothered to make it to his birthday party.

Curling in on himself, Tommy buried his face into his knees, hoping that he might disappear. He couldn’t believe he was humiliating himself in front of Tubbo like this. Tubbo, one of the only people who chose to stick with him after everything he did, was now going to see him for who he truly was.

Pathetic. Weak. Childish.

“Oh. _Oh.”_

Tommy felt a pair of hands running circles on his back, and it took everything Tommy had to not _scream_ at the world and its cruel sense of humor. Because this _isn’t_ funny, and he _wasn’t_ laughing. Not genuinely, at least.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy gasped, trying to fill his lungs with air, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Tubbo said, pulling Tommy in for a hug, “It’s not like _I_ don’t get like this either.”

“It’s not the same,” Tommy muttered.

“How?”

Tommy didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled himself out of the hug and wiped the tears out of his eyes, sniffing loudly. He couldn’t afford to be acting like a baby anymore. He was crying over nothing. People had suffered worse without crying like a newborn.

Now that Tubbo had already guessed the truth, the words slipped out easily.

“Dream is my father,” he said, almost as if he were daring Tubbo to hate him, to cast him aside.

Tommy wouldn’t blame him if he did. As a matter of fact, Tubbo should. He would be better off without the son of a literal psychopath.

“That’s really crap,” Tubbo replied in a matter of fact tone, “But I’m more concerned about you right now.”

“Why?” Tommy demanded, jumping to his feet. “Tubbo, didn’t you just hear me? Dream is my father! Dream, the guy who literally tried to kill you, participated in bringing me to existence!”

“So?” Tubbo asked, “I hate Dream as much as you do, but that has no bearing on how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand,” Tommy said. His breathing was getting short, but he refused to sit back down.

“What don’t I understand?” Tubbo’s voice was slightly firmer now. “Remember Schlatt, Tommy? Remember when we seriously considered the idea that he was my father?”

“This is different,” Tommy insisted, begin to pace back and forth, “This is _so_ different.”

“How?”

“Because Schlatt never told you to your face that he was your father!” Tommy laughed. “For all we know, Schlatt had no relation to you whatsoever. But Dream—Dream…”

Tommy flinched when Tubbo gently grabbed his wrist, staring up at Tommy intently. “You’re right,” Tubbo said seriously, “I don’t know exactly how you feel, and the situations aren’t the same. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have _some_ idea of what’s running around in your head.”

“Fine,” Tommy bit out, “What then?”

Tubbo gently led Tommy back to his seat on the couch. “When I thought Schlatt might be my father, I was... horrified.” Tubbo shuddered. “And then I thought about you and Wilbur, and I began worrying about what you two would think. And then I realized that Schlatt has done so many horrible things I would have to make up for. And then, I wanted to know why… why he executed me on that stage.”

Tubbo hugged himself. “To be honest,” he whispered, “I was pretty scared. Scared I’d become like him.”

Tommy wanted to comfort his friend, but he wasn’t sure how.

“I’m scared too,” Tommy admitted, “Um…”

Tubbo waited expectantly, and Tommy let out a shuddering breath.

“Am I a bad person, Tubbo?” Tommy hugged his knees up to his chest. “Am I—am I like him?”

“You’re nothing like Dream,” Tubbo said immediately, “You and I both know that.”

“I lie,” Tommy whispered, clenching his hands tightly around his jeans, “I cheat; I rob people. I’m selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Tommy,” Tubbo said, his voice cracking, “And you have never done anything even _close_ to what Dream has done.”

“That’s not true, though.” Tommy grabbed onto his hair the same way Wilbur would whenever everything became too much. “I killed Dream twice. I killed my own _father_ twice! I made him beg, _plead_ for mercy; I told him to drop all of his items in the hole. The first time I visited the prison, I told him I wanted to manipulate him, that I wanted him to hurt the same way he hurt me.”

“He deserved it,” Tubbo said firmly, “He was about to take you away forever after _killing_ me. You were hurting, and you wanted to make him understand how he hurt you. If Schlatt were alive, I’d probably want to do something similar.”

Tommy laughed humorlessly. “Wanting to do something and actually doing something are two very different things, Tubbo.”

Tubbo gave Tommy a searching look. “Answer me this, then. Did you actually do any of the things you told Dream you wanted to do? Have you manipulated him?”

Tommy curled deeper on himself. “Well, I don’t know,” he muttered, “I told him that I might forgive him if he wrote me some books. I taunted him.”

“I don’t think that counts as manipulation,” Tubbo said frankly, “Not when it comes to Dream, at least. Maybe if you said that to a five-year-old, it would be different. But Dream’s a full-grown man.”

Tommy sighed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

Tommy could’ve burnt the clock. He could’ve taken all of Dream’s books and thrown them in the lava. He could’ve asked Sam to limit his food supply even more than he already was. Although Sam might not have allowed that last part. He could’ve visited every day, convincing Dream that nobody cared about him, that Tommy was the only one who even gave a crap.

But something told Tommy that Dream would see all of his potential attempts of manipulation as nothing more than child’s play. An amusing little game his son decided to create to make himself feel better about his trauma.

 _His_ son. _Dream’s_ son.

The idea of being related to that man still filled him with disgust.

But was Dream always so bad? He couldn’t have been, right? Tommy could remember a time when Dream was pretty nice to him. Besides, Tommy’s mother had to at least love Dream a _little bit,_ and Dream was pretty unlovable the way he was right now. He had to have changed a little bit.

Right?

Unless Dream had manipulated her too. Unless Dream had strung her along exactly as he had done to Tommy, making her dependent on him, making her love him.

He was going to be sick.

“Who else knows?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy grabbed onto the distraction like a lifeline. “Um… you, Sam, Puffy, and… that’s it.”

“Okay,” Tubbo said, nodding to himself, “I’ll be sure not to tell anyone.”

Tommy smiled. Tubbo really was too good for him. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s no problem!” Tubbo stood up, clapping his hands together. “Now, come on, I want to show you this garden I’ve been working on.”

Tommy laughed, following Tubbo out of the house and back into the frigid cold. “I didn’t know things could grow in this god-awful weather.”

Tubbo gasped dramatically. “I am insulted. The flowers are very offended. You have offended the flowers.”

“Oh dear,” Tommy said, “I suppose that was very rude of me. But I have a little secret, Tubbo.”

“And what is that?”

Tommy lowered his voice into a very loud and conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t care what the flowers think.”

Tubbo laughed, bending down and scooping up a bit of snow with his gloved hands. “Well, I suppose I shall have to defend the flowers’ honor.”

“Oh no.”

Tommy managed to dodge away from the snowball that Tubbo chucked toward him.

“Oh, it’s on, now!” Tommy exclaimed. He crouched down and grabbed a handful of burning cold snow, completely disregarding his bare hands. He grinned _~~evilly~~ _mischievously and said, “You have no idea what you have just unleashed.”

Tommy and Tubbo began pelting each other with snowballs, laughing or yelling loudly whenever they actually got hit.

“Just admit defeat while you still can!” Tommy aimed a snowball at Tubbo. “They call me the snowball king for a reason.”

“Why?” Tubbo sniggered, “Because you’re so good at getting hit—Hey!”

Tommy’s snowball hit Tubbo square in the chest, and Tommy laughed as Tubbo immediately threw his own back toward Tommy, missing by a couple of feet.

Tommy _missed_ this. Tommy missed having playful snowball fights like this. Fights where there were no stakes, no terms, no fear. Fights that didn’t involve injury or death. Just fun and laughter.

It almost felt like they were kids again.

And as Tommy and Tubbo collapsed into the soft snow, giggling like teenage girls, another kid popped into Tommy’s mind.

“You know, Tubbo, I’ve just had a pretty interesting thought.”

Tubbo hummed tiredly, his cheeks pink from the cold and exertion. “And what’s that?”

Tommy stared straight up, watching the clouds drift across the blue sky. Then, he grinned widely, turning his head to look back at Tubbo.

“Drista is my aunt.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened, a shocked laugh bursting out of him.

“Oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just so you guys don't hype yourselves up or anything like that, Tommy's mother is going to be an original character. Partially because it makes things simpler for me as the author, partially because it avoids shipping. 
> 
> Um... Marvel is a thing in this fandom because I said so, just pretend it's a book series. 
> 
> The Tubbo and Tommy reveal scene went pretty differently compared to the drabble I had on tumblr, mostly because of the natural progression of the scene. 
> 
> It occurred to me while writing this that this fic is incredibly fluffy compared to my other fics, which is funny because the premise is incredibly angsty. I blame the comfort I keep giving the characters because there is no immediate impending feeling of death hanging over their heads. 
> 
> Lol, anyway, thanks for reading, sorry for any errors, I hope you enjoyed! :)
> 
> Your comments are all very lovely btw. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy calls Drista.

Tubbo managed to convince Tommy to stay over at Snowchester that night, so Tommy found himself sitting in front of a warm fire. A soft blanket was draped across the both of them, and Tubbo was asleep, curled up against Tommy like some sort of cat. Tommy couldn’t deny that he wasn’t feeling abnormally comfortable as well.

A small part of Tommy wondered if it was _too_ comfortable. Maybe this was all just a dream and he was going to wake up in Logstedshire, curled up against _Dream_ instead of Tubbo.

Tommy’s stomach churned, and stared down at Tubbo’s sleeping form, cataloging all of his best friend’s features. This was Tubbo. This was Tubbo. Dream wasn’t here. Dream was in prison. Besides, Tubbo didn’t have his arms wrapped around him, and Tommy didn’t have his arms wrapped around Tubbo, and nobody was stroking anybody’s hair…

The comfortable warmth was suddenly suffocating.

As quickly and carefully as he could, Tommy took his part of the blanket off, still allowing it to be covering Tubbo. Tubbo made a soft noise at the movement, and Tommy froze. Had he woken him up?

But no, Tubbo seemed as blissfully asleep as ever.

The fireplace still felt too hot, and Tommy was filled with the overwhelming urge to get up and go outside into the cold air. But he really didn’t want to wake up Tubbo, and he probably would if he removed himself from being Tubbo’s literal pillow.

So, Tommy just sat there, trying to maintain steady breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought saw a shadow move outside through the window, and it took everything Tommy had not to pull out his sword for protection. Everything was fine. Nobody was going to attack him. Nobody was going to hurt Tubbo. Everything was _fine._

Tommy only managed to lightly doze that night, his dreams being nothing more than shadowy figures claiming to love him.

Tommy was exhausted when morning finally rolled along. Tubbo, who definitely got more sleep than Tommy, was far more chipper.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked Tommy brightly.

Tommy moaned in exhaustion. “I’ll just have whatever you get; I trust your judgment.”

Besides, Tommy didn’t want to impose, especially after everything Tubbo had done for him. It would be selfish to just ask for whatever he liked.

They ate chocolate muffins. They were pretty delicious.

“So, what are you going to do today?” Tubbo asked thickly, his mouth full of muffin.

Tommy hummed. “You know,” he said, “I think I’m going to tell Drista that I am her nephew and see how she reacts.”

Tubbo raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think she already knows?”

“There’s no way.” Tommy took another bite of his muffin. “She would’ve mentioned it down the line.”

Tubbo laughed. “Sorry,” he said upon seeing Tommy’s strange look, “I just still can’t believe that _Drista’s_ your _aunt.”_

“That’s the part your hung up about?” Tommy muttered to himself. If he were Tubbo, he’d be far more concerned about the fact that his best friend was the son of a freaking psychopath.

“Well, if you want, I can go to the prison and beat Dream up,” Tubbo said musingly, “Which I’m pretty tempted to do not going to lie…”

Tommy shook his head violently. “No way. Don’t even think about it.”

Images of Dream threatening Tubbo rose up in Tommy’s mind. “ _Put your armor in the hole, Tommy.” “Say your goodbyes.” “I’m not going to kill you. You’re too fun.”_

Tubbo smiled heavily. “Don’t worry, Tommy, I wasn’t actually planning on doing it.”

Oh. Tommy sagged. He could be such an idiot sometimes. And a coward. Who else would react so strongly to a lighthearted suggestion?

“Sorry,” Tommy muttered.

Tubbo calmly finished off his muffin. “Don’t be,” he said, “I’d probably react the same way if you said you were going to the prison to beat up Dream. In all honesty, I get nervous whenever you visit without violent intentions too.”

“It’s different for me, Tubbo,” Tommy said tiredly, “At least I know that Dream won’t attempt to kill me.”

Then again, is it even possible to die in that prison? Sam had mentioned Dream respawning if he tried to fling himself into the lava curtain.

Tommy would prefer not to take that risk.

“Okay,” Tubbo said simply, “How about you call Drista now? I want to see how she reacts.”

Tommy was immensely grateful for the subject change, and he quickly pulled out his communicator, messaging Sam.

_TommyInnit: Do you have Drista’s contact information?_

There was no way that Sam didn’t know, considering that Sam had Dream’s communicator, which almost definitely had his sister’s contact information on it.

Sam replied almost immediately after.

_Awesamdude: Isn’t that Dream’s sister?_

Tommy appreciated Sam’s concern, but it was really unnecessary in this case.

_TommyInnit: Yes. She’s very pog. I want to break the news to her._

_Awesamedude: Okay, here._

“Alright, Tubbo,” Tommy said, sniggering like he did when he was about to pull a prank on Wilbur, “Are you ready?”

Tubbo grinned like he did whenever Tommy suggested those pranks. “Oh yeah, this should be great.”

Tommy inputted Drista’s contact information and pressed _call._ He then placed his communicator in the center of the table, putting it on speaker.

Tommy and Tubbo grinned as each other as they listened to the communicator ring and vibrate against the table.

“Hello?” Drista’s voice reverberated from the communicator.

“Drista! How are you doing?” Tommy said loudly, his excitement possibly getting the better of him.

There was a small pause.

“ _Tommy?”_

Tommy leaned against the back of wooden chair, grinning at Tubbo, who was stifling his giggles. “Yep, that’s me! Big man Innit, you know.”

“How did you get this number? Did Dream give it to you? Wait, are you still in exile? Because if so, I can give Dream a good smack in the face; I told him he was taking things too far, but he hasn’t been answering any of my messages since the beginning of January.”

Tommy winced at the mention of his exile. Tubbo stopped giggling.

So much for a funny phone call.

Tommy was hesitant to break the news of Dream’s imprisonment to Drista. How would she react? Would she hate him for getting her brother landed in prison? For taking away two of his lives? Oh god, she was going to hate him.

Tommy swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He… he had to tell her. He owed it to her, at least, to explain what had happened to her brother.

Tubbo poked Tommy gently, causing Tommy to jerk to attention.

Tubbo mouthed something, pointing to himself and then to the communicator. Was he offering to explain the situation to Drista? Probably.

Tommy shook his head. He had to do this. _Tommy_ was the one to kill her brother twice, not Tubbo. Tommy had to be the one to do this.

“Tommy?” Drista asked, probably wondering what was taking Tommy so long to reply.

Tommy took a deep breath.

“Erm, about that Drista,” Tommy said slowly, “Dream… Dream’s in prison now.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, the words now coming out in a rush, “Yeah, and I may have killed him twice, I’m sorry, I was just so angry, and I almost killed him a third time too, but he was trying to kill Tubbo, and I know that doesn’t justify it, I’m sorry, and I understand if you hate me now, and don’t want anything to do with me, because I shouldn’t have been so selfish, I didn’t even _think_ about you, and I—”

“ _Tommy,”_ Drista interrupted, “How about you tell me what happened, but with a little more explanation than just: Dream tried to kill Tubbo, so you got angry, killed him a couple of times, and stuck him in a prison.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to say the words, but none came. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

_Murderer. Selfish. Coward. Monster._

“Hey, Drista,” Tubbo said quietly.

“Hi Tubbo,” Drista said, equally calmly, “Good to hear that you’re not dead.”

Tubbo let out a small chuckle. “Yeah.”

“So… can you explain to me what happened and where Tommy went?”

“Um, Tommy just needs a minute to breathe, I think. We’re on speaker, by the way,” Tubbo said slowly, “But I can explain to you what happened.”

“Sorry if I accidently freaked you out, Tommy,” Drista said immediately, “I’m not mad at you or anything.”

Tommy felt some of the tension in his chest slowly loosen. He opened his eyes to see Tubbo looking at him in concern. Tommy wished he wouldn’t. He hated making Tubbo worry.

“And yes, Tubbo, a more thorough explanation that doesn’t villainize teenagers only a few years older than me would be nice.”

Tommy let out a weak laugh in spite of himself.

“Well, you know about Tommy’s exile,” Tubbo said quietly, giving Tommy another concerned glance.

Drista’s voice was terse. “Yep.”

“Well, Tommy ran away. And long story short, Dream blew up L’manberg.” Tubbo massaged his forehead, looking old and tired again. “Uh, and when I say blow up, I mean bedrock level destruction. Like, there’s no going back.”

Drista swore.

“Anyway, um, Dream sent Tommy and I a message saying that we needed to meet him alone or he would burn the disks. So, we did, and Dream overpowered us and took us to this vault place. He basically said that he could control people through their attachments and whatnot, but Tommy was too important to kill because he was the one who caused all of the attachments.”

Tubbo sighed as Tommy let out a derisive snort. “Uh, we think there might be more to it than that. But, anyway, Dream wanted to lock Tommy up in this high security prison, and he was going to _kill_ me. And he was actually about to do it before Punz and the others came in and saved us.”

“And that’s when Tommy killed Dream twice before locking him in a prison?” Drista asked.

Tommy flinched. Tubbo also winced, but nodded. “Basically.”

“My brother is an idiot,” Drista said dryly, “You have the moral high ground. I’m not mad at you, Tommy.”

Drista didn’t understand. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen how Tommy taunted Dream, _relished_ in killing him over and over, filled with nothing but hate and rage.

And maybe just the smallest embers of betrayal. Because even after all of Dream’s manipulation and abuse, a traitorous part of Tommy still saw him as a friend, as a _father-figure_.

Speaking of which…

“Dream’s my father,” Tommy blurted out suddenly.

If Bad were to drop an egg poster in the SMP, they would’ve heard it from here, the silence was that damming.

Then:

“Dream’s your _WHAT?!”_

Tubbo snorted loudly.

See, this, _this_ was the reaction Tommy had been hoping for, but he found he couldn’t enjoy it as much anymore.

“Yeah, you know that baby that Dream had and gave up?” Tommy asked, somewhat bitterly.

“ _NO,_ I do _not!”_ Drista all but shrieked, sounding indignant. Tommy flinched. “Dream had a _baby?!_ And he didn’t say _anything?!”_

Wait a minute, Drista didn’t _know_ that she had a nephew? Tommy knew she didn’t know _he_ was the nephew, but he thought that Dream might’ve bothered to _mention_ him to her.

Tommy twisted the fabric of his shirt with his fists. He supposed he wasn’t _important_ enough for that.

Tubbo was slack jawed, looking just as surprised as Tommy.

“I thought you knew!” Tommy exclaimed, not even bothering to hide the betrayal in his voice.

“ _No!”_ Drista shrieked, her voice screaming murder. Both Tommy and Tubbo jumped in their chairs slightly. Her voice lowered until a murderous mutter. “Just wait until I tell Mom and Dad; they were already going to be _furious_ about the whole killing and abusing children thing, but now _this?_ Dream will rue the day he decided to hide my nephew from me.”

“I have grandparents?” Tommy asked, surprised. He wasn’t sure why; it’s not like Dream and Drista could’ve come out of thin air. Still, the idea of knowing that he not only had an aunt but also grandparents was almost overwhelming to him.

“Oh, they are going to be _so_ mad,” Drista promised, “Mom has been moaning for _years_ about wishing Dream would just settle down and get her some ‘grandbabies,’ and you’ve been around this _entire time._ ”

Tubbo laughed. Tommy couldn’t bring himself to.

“He didn’t mention me _once?”_ Tommy asked, hating himself for his voice breaking, “Not even a, ‘Hey, Drista I have a son but I abandoned him so you can’t tell mum’?”

Drista’s voice became slightly more sympathetic. “Sorry,” she said, “But this is definitely the first time _I’m_ hearing of it.”

Tommy didn’t know why this was bothering him so much. He didn’t know why he even cared. Who cared if Dream talked about him? It didn’t matter. Dream left him when he was _two;_ that made his stance on Tommy pretty clear. He didn’t care.

Dream just… Dream looked so _happy_ in the photograph, and Tommy had hoped…

Ugh, why was he even thinking about this? It was stupid. He didn’t need any of Dream’s stupid love anyway.

_“I’m only doing this because I love you.” “I love you too much for me to let you go.” “I’m just trying to protect you.” “You know I love you.”_

Tommy suddenly became very aware of the photograph still sitting in his pocket. He whipped it out, getting ready to rip it up into bits.

Instead he just stared at it. Stared at Dream’s stupidly young, stupidly happy face. Stared at his own tiny face, laughing at his terrible father.

“Anyway,” Drista said, “I’m coming over to yell at my idiot brother myself. Besides—” Drista’s voice donned a suddenly mischievous tone. “—I have some catching up to do with my favorite nephew.”

Tubbo snorted. “Why doesn’t it sound like you’re about to give him alcohol?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not.”

And with that, she ended the call.

There was small silence as Tommy and Tubbo processed the conversation. Tommy still hadn’t looked up from the photograph. Corners of it were charred. Had someone tried to burn it?

“Tommy?” Tubbo asked softly, almost as if he were trying to wake Tommy up in the morning.

Tommy snapped to attention, quickly shoving the photograph back into his pocket. “Yeah?”

Tubbo squeezed the back of his neck, staring down at the communicator. “I just, erm… are you doing alright?”

Tommy plastered on a smile, but his next words sounded more frustrated than cheerful. “I’m fine, big man. No need to worry about me.”

Tubbo frowned, looking Tommy in the eyes. “You’re allowed to be upset, you know.”

“I’m not,” Tommy said firmly. He stood up abruptly, scraping his chair back against the stone floors. He sighed. “I think I need some fresh air.”

Tommy walked straight outside, not even bothering to grab a coat to fight against the biting cold.

As he walked, he pulled the photo back out of his pocket, staring at it.

He hated Dream. He hated Dream so much. So why did he care if Dream missed Tommy or not? Why did he care if Dream didn’t tell his parents about Tommy?

Tommy was just being sensitive. He was being idiotic. He was being _selfish,_ demanding so much attention from others. Dream didn’t have to flaunt him; Tommy wasn’t worth it.

Tommy wasn’t even sure where in Snowchester he was anymore; he was just wandering aimlessly. He was too caught up in his thoughts to care anyway.

Tommy heard the familiar crunching of footsteps, and he looked up to see Niki approaching him. Tommy stopped walking, forcing himself out of his thoughts. He had to stay focused, especially around Niki. Tommy hadn’t forgotten Niki’s strange behavior on the day of the nuclear launch.

“Hey, Niki,” Tommy said cautiously, trying to sound at elast mildly upbeat, “What’s up?”

Niki smiled pleasantly, and Tommy would almost believe that she was the same as she always was if it weren’t for that dangerous glint in her eyes. Tommy had seen that glint before. He’d seen it in Phil’s eyes, in Techno’s eyes, in Wilbur’s eyes.

In _Dream’s_ eyes.

“I’m doing good, Tommy!” she said cheerfully, “How are you?”

Tommy was too busy keeping a focused eye on Niki, he could barely hear the sound of crunching snow coming from behind him. “You know, Niki? I’m doing just fin-Mph!”

A gloved hand clamped itself on Tommy’s mouth, and Tommy let out a muffled shout in response. He immediately started struggling, trying to pry the hand off of his face.

He froze the minute he felt the point of a blade touch his back.

Niki only watched. Tommy gave her his best glare. This’d better be a prank.

It was never a prank anymore.

“Any last words?” Jack snarled into his ear.

Tommy hated being right sometimes.

“Screw you,” he said, his voice muffled through Jack’s glove. He regretted it almost immediately. Now he had little fuzzies in his mouth.

Niki stepped closer to Tommy, bending over and grabbing something off the ground.

“What’s this?”

Tommy’s eyes widened, and he resisted the urge to swear.

It was the photo. He had dropped the photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be fluffy...
> 
> Sorry. :)
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad everyone is enjoying so far! (Please be nice in the comments.) <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dream’s your father?!” Jack growled, sounding animalistic.
> 
> “Get off of me!” Tommy shouted back, trying to pull himself up from Jack’s grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: torture, dissociation, self-hatred

Tommy could only watch as Niki stared at the photo, her brow shifting from hard anger to confusion.

“Who is this?” she asked, shoving the picture into Tommy’s face.

Oh, thank Prime, Tommy was saved. Well, as saved as he could be when Jack was almost going to definitely kill him regardless.

Tommy shrugged, trying to convey a _how the heck should I know_ face, which was difficult, considering that Jack still had a hand clamped over Tommy’s mouth.

Tommy couldn’t exactly see him, but he assumed that Jack was looking at the photo himself, since he had neither said anything nor killed Tommy yet.

Speaking of killing Tommy, Tommy wasn’t sure why he wasn’t panicking yet. As a matter of fact, he felt abnormally calm. Was he in denial? Or did he speedrun through all of the stages of grief all the way to acceptance?

It didn’t exactly matter anymore. Tommy was going to die regardless of what stage of grief he was in.

“He might be Phil,” Jack said abrasively, “Younger Phil, I mean.”

Niki rolled her eyes. “He’s not Phil. He would have wings.”

“Huh, you’re right. Well, the sweater looks familiar. Who do we know that wears green?”

Tommy couldn’t believe this. Were they really trying to puzzle this together _now?_ They had Tommy in their grasps, why didn’t they just kill him and then find out if they were so desperate to know? It would be better than leaving Tommy with his heart slamming against his chest, because they couldn’t figure it out, because if they figured it out then everyone would know, and if everyone knew Tommy was _screwed—_

“Dream,” Niki said, clearly joking, if the way she snorted and rolled her eyes was anything to go by.

Jack didn’t laugh, and Tommy felt a shiver go down his spine.

“Wait, I think that’s where I recognize the sweater from,” Jack said, “I think that’s Dream’s sweater.”

Niki actually laughed this time. “Jack, I’m pretty sure Dream doesn’t have a monopoly on green sweaters.”

“Yeah, but green sweaters and blond hair? Doesn’t that seem like a strange coincidence? Especially considering that Dream and Tommy have a strange relationship?”

Niki crossed her arms. “Well, you could always ask Tommy if he were cooperative enough to give answers, but I don’t really think—”

Jack took his hand off of Tommy’s mouth while digging the point of his sword slightly deeper into Tommy’s back. Tommy hissed in pain.

“Who’s in the photo?” Jack growled, “Is it Dream?”

Tommy laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as terrified as he felt. “Manifold, Big Man Jack, let’s just put the sword down and talk about this like rational—" Tommy let out a cry when Jack twisted the sword slightly, causing tears of pain to form on the edges of Tommy’s eyes. “Okay, okay! It’s not Dream, genius! Honestly, just because there’s a blond dude with a green sweater in a photo doesn’t mean Dream is my father or anything. Can you _please_ put the sword down?”

The air seemed to freeze around them, which was kind of funny, since the air was already pretty frozen to begin with, considering they were in a snow biome and all that.

“Nobody ever said anything about him being your father,” Jack said slowly.

Tommy’s heart stopped. _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap…_

“Well, I’m sorry that I thought it was obvious it was being implied. The man in the picture is my father after all, but he’s just a normal dude by the name of Tom, you know my father was very interesting about his naming choices, I guess he wanted his son to have a similar name to his own, anyway, but it’s not Dream, because Dream is not my father, honestly Jack, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Oh god, what was he even saying?

Niki’s face hardened. “You’re lying.”

Of course, Niki would know when he was lying; she had spent enough time with Tommy to know. They used to be so close; Tommy used to see Niki like a big sister. What happened?

Tommy couldn’t dwell on it, because suddenly, Jack had cast his sword aside and tackled Tommy into the snow, pinning down his shoulders as Tommy frantically tried to struggle and escape.

“Dream’s your father?!” Jack growled, sounding animalistic.

“Get off of me!” Tommy shouted back, trying to pull himself up from Jack’s grasp. He almost managed it too, until Niki pointed her own sword at Tommy’s neck.

Tommy collapsed back into the snow, breathing heavily. The cold air made his lungs burn, and his clothes were getting soaked in the snow.

“Is Dream your father?!” Jack shouted again, causing spittle to land on Tommy’s face.

Tommy didn’t say anything. He _refused_ to say anything. He refused to admit the horrifying truth, not to people who were actively trying to kill him.

“Answer me!”

Tommy laughed bitterly. “What do you want me to say?”

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Tommy felt his breath leave him. This conversation sounded too familiar.

_“What do you want me to say, Tommy?”_

Jack furiously opened his mouth to reply, but Niki beat him to it.

“I want you to tell us the truth, if you can even manage that, since you’ve been lying to us this entire time.”

The sword near Tommy’s neck was shaking and so was Niki’s voice. Tommy wondered if Niki had even noticed.

_“I want the truth.”_

“Dream is my father,” Tommy blurted out, “But you have to believe me when I tell you I didn’t know until yesterday, or two days ago, depending on how you look at it.”

Jack laughed bitterly, and Tommy couldn’t hide his flinch. “And why should we believe you after you drop a bomb like that?”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he _could_ say, in all honesty. Certainly nothing that would convince Jack and Niki of his ignorance.

“Were you behind all of this?” Niki whispered, sounding more horrified than angry, “Ever since the beginning, was this all part of a game?”

“ _No,_ Prime no, Niki, why would you—”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Jack interrupted, looking like he was about ready to kill Tommy there and now, “You’re his son! You probably planned this from the start!” Jack pulled a knife out of his inventory, and Tommy shrunk back.

“Is the knife really neces—”

The knife slowly cut through the skin right below Tommy’s left eye, and Tommy let out a pained cry.

“Shut up, or I’ll take out your eye,” Jack hissed.

“Someone will hear—” Jack cut deeper, and Tommy screamed.

“No, they won’t,” Niki said, her voice was steadier now, “We’re at least two miles away from Snowchester.”

 _Two miles?_ When did Tommy get _two miles_ away? Tommy thought he had only just reached the outskirts of Snowchester, not _two miles_ away from its borders.

“It’s just us.” Jack grinned wildly. “So, Dream and Tommy; Father and Son. One day you two meet and decide to screw the rest of us over. You decide to act like a selfish, chaotic teenager to start wars, to cause death, to cause destruction, to cause _pain—”_

“ _No,_ you have to believe me! _Niki—_ ” Tommy cried out in agony as Jack openly sliced open his cheek.

“Was it you?” Niki whispered. Her voice got louder. “Was it _you!?_ Were you the one who caused Wilbur to die?!”

Hot tears started to fill his eyes. _Wilbur._

_Wilbur’s maddened screams echoed off the corners of the ravine; his cackling filled Tommy’s nightmares; his words haunted his thoughts._

What would Wilbur think of him now? Would Wilbur still love him now that he was the son of a monster? Or would he scream at him and blame him for everything like Jack and Niki are now?

Oh well, Tommy probably would’ve done the same in their place.

“This was all _you!”_ Niki was screaming now. “If it weren’t for you, people might be happy! I thought you were just a horrible, selfish person, but you really planned all of this? You’re sadistic! You killed Wilbur, you _monster!”_

Horrible. Selfish. Sadistic. Monster.

_“Tommy, are we the bad guys? Am I the villain in this story?”_

Wilbur was never the villain, at least not at first. Tommy was. How could he not be, when he had Dream for a father?

“You must’ve had a jolly good time in exile, huh?” Jack asked, laughing hysterically, “Just some father and son bonding time, am I right? I bet you had a good laugh later, when Dream pretended to be mad at you.”

Tommy didn’t think Dream had been pretending. There was too much anger, too much venom, in his voice for it all to be an act. Then again, this was Dream they were talking about, so anything was possible.

“Stop looking so pathetic!” Niki screamed, “Stop making _us_ look like the monsters!”

Tommy didn’t know how. He couldn’t exactly stem the blood bleeding freely from the fresh cuts on his face. He couldn’t exactly stop his tears, even though they only made the pain worse.

He couldn’t stop the cold of the snow from seeping into his bones, from making everything numb, from making him feel more and more distant from the situation.

“I can’t believe you made Tubbo think you were his friend,” Jack growled, “I can’t believe you manipulated him like that.”

Jack was right. Nobody in their right minds would be friends with Tommy. Tommy must’ve done something, said something, to make Tubbo think that Tommy was his friend. Tommy must’ve manipulated him. Why else would Tubbo still care about Tommy?

And if that were true, he must’ve manipulated Sam and Puffy as well. And Wilbur. And anyone who ever had the foolishness to love someone like him.

Horrible. Selfish. Sadistic. Pathetic. Manipulative. Monster.

Jack grabbed Tommy by the wrist, yanking his arm so violently that Tommy heard something in his wrist crack. The blinding pain in his wrist caused him to let out another scream.

But a broken wrist hadn’t nothing, _nothing_ on the knife that dug deep into his forearm.

Tommy shrieked and _writhed_ in agony, but Niki held him down. The pain was white hot; it was blinding; he couldn’t think; he couldn’t breathe; he could only _scream,_ and _scream,_ and _scream_ until he didn’t even know where he was anymore.

“I’m sorry, Dream, I’m _sorry!”_ Tommy screamed, “ _Please, please!”_

The pain didn’t stop. As a matter of fact, Tommy could have sworn that it got worse.

He wanted to pass out. He wanted to die. He wanted the pain to _end, please let it end, please._

 _“You deserve this, Tommy,”_ a voice floated above him, _“You shouldn’t have disobeyed me.”_

And suddenly, he felt like he was floating. The world became muffled. Tommy couldn’t feel anymore. It was like watching a play. Jack was still torturing him, still adding new scars to Tommy’s ever-increasing collection, and Niki was still holding him down with tears running down her face, but Tommy couldn’t feel it. He was detached.

He had done this sometimes, during exile, when everything had become too much.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he became aware of the searing pain all over his body, of the sticky blood, of the numbing cold, of the aching soreness of his throat, of the salty tears, of Niki’s dry sobs.

Tommy didn’t think he would ever understand Niki. She was like Dream, in that sense; he couldn’t get a handle on her motivations at all. Why was she crying when she _wanted_ Tommy dead? Was she upset about the betrayal?

Jack was much easier to understand.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” Jack said, “We had been hoping the nuke would take you out, but this was much more satisfying, I’ll admit.”

Tommy held back a sob.

“Jack,” Niki said quietly, “Let’s just kill him, let’s just put him out of his misery.”

“Wait,” Jack said, sounding excited, sounding like Wilbur sounded when he suggested the Pit, like he had a wonderful, dreadful, awful idea. “Let’s do it in front of Dream.”

“Sam won’t let us—”

“The idiot cares about Tommy,” Jack interrupted, “We’ll tell him we’ll kill Tommy if he doesn’t let us in, and then we’ll kill Tommy in front of Dream anyways.”

“Weapons aren’t allowed in when visiting the prisoner, genius,” Tommy said, his voice slurring together, “Besides, Dream doesn’t have attachments. He doesn’t give a crap.”

“Even if I believed that,” Jack said, “He still needs you alive, remember?”

“He has that resurrection book, remember?” Tommy groaned, “If you kill me, he’ll just bring me back.”

There was a short silence where the only sounds were Tommy’s pained gasps.

“Let’s sleep on it,” Niki finally suggested, “I’ll take him to my underground city. You go distract Tubbo, he’s probably missing Tommy by now.”

Jack nodded slowly. Tommy resisted the urge to laugh in his face. Revenge wasn’t so easy, was it? If it were, maybe Tommy wouldn’t feel like someone had carved a pit in his stomach whenever he thought about killing Dream.

Tommy didn’t struggle when Niki picked him up to take him who-knows-where. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Niki whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry.”

Why was she apologizing? Tommy deserved this. He would’ve deserved this even if Dream weren’t his father. Parentage didn’t change the wars that _Tommy_ caused.

He faded in and out of consciousness, seeing flashes of landscape, hearing harried shouts, feeling blankets on top of him, hearing crying, _“Baby, stay awake for me, can you do that?”,_ feeling hands carding through his hair, seeing Tubbo’s face swim across his vision, being hugged, feeling so _cold_ and so _warm…_

Tommy woke up suddenly, awake and aware.

He was staring up at a white ceiling. Warm blankets were piled on top of him. His entire body was wrapped up in bandages, and he felt soft gauze taped to his face.

He was shivering, which was stupid, because he was wrapped up in what had to be about a million blankets.

Everything hurt.

“Tommy? Are you awake, bud?”

Sam.

Tommy slowly turned his head to the side, and relief mixed with warmth filled his chest when he saw Sam sitting there, looking at Tommy with concern.

Tommy tried to say something, but all he could manage was a dull groan. His stomach growled. Loudly.

“Are you hungry?” Sam asked, “You can just nod your head for yes or no if you don’t feel up for speaking.”

Tommy nodded.

“Alright, let me help you up.”

Sitting up was a very painstaking and careful process which involved a lot of careful avoidance of not touching wounds that hadn’t managed to heal all the way. Tommy whimpered more than once, causing Sam to shower him with apologies.

Tommy hated it. He hated feeling so weak, so helpless.

“I’m going to go get Puffy, okay?” Sam said quietly, “Here, Fran can keep you company.”

Tommy didn’t complain as Sam carefully set Fran into Tommy’s lap. Fran snuggled into Tommy, and Tommy sunk his fingers into the warmth of Fran’s fur.

Puffy came in, holding a bowl of what Tommy assumed was soup in her hands.

“Hi,” Puffy said softly.

Tommy nodded in reply.

Sam pulled a chair up on the other side of Tommy’s bed, and Puffy sat on it, holding the soup gently out to Tommy.

Tommy’s hands were trembling, but he took it, willing himself to stay steady. It was just a bowl of soup. It wouldn’t be hard to eat.

“It’s hot,” Puffy said, “which will help, but be careful not to burn yourself on it.”

Tommy nodded again, grabbing his spoon and carefully taking a bite of the soup. It was hot, but he barely tasted it. Soon enough, he was done, and he handed the empty bowl back to Puffy.

“Are you still hungry?” Puffy asked, “I have more.”

Tommy shook his head.

“Niki told us what happened,” Sam said, his voice still soft.

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Niki.

“She was in hysterics,” Puffy added.

Tommy didn’t understand. Why would she be upset? Wasn’t she one of the ones who did this to him? But… she apologized. Why had she apologized?

“Where is she now?” Tommy asked hoarsely, “Is she…” Dead? Imprisoned? Running around trying to kill Tommy again?

“She’s being confined at Eret’s castle,” Puffy explained, “She has a nice room, and I’m sure Eret’s giving her company, but everyone involved knows it’s a prison.”

Tommy nodded. That was good, that was good. She wasn’t being punished too harshly. She shouldn’t be. Niki was Niki, and besides, it wasn’t like _she_ was the one who cut him up like paper.

Speaking of whom…

“Where’s Jack?”

Both Sam and Puffy winced. “We’re looking for him,” Puffy said quickly, “We’ll find him.”

That was good, but… come to think of it, was it even necessary? Did Niki even deserve to be put into a prison, however nice it may be?

“You don’t have to,” Tommy said, his voice stronger than before, “I mean, it wasn’t like he didn't have a reason, I have a pretty crappy father, and he’s had a pretty crappy lot in life, I don’t blame him for wanting some justice; it wasn’t like he hurt Tubbo or anything.”

The silence that followed filled Tommy with dread. Had he said something wrong? Probably. Tommy curled in on himself slight, twisting his blanket in his hands. He ignored Fran. Fran shouldn’t be touched by him.

Horrible. Selfish. Sadistic. Pathetic. Manipulative. Monster.

“Oh, honey,” Sam said, looking like someone had ripped his heart out, “Please don’t tell me you think Jack was justified in torturing you.”

Tommy scowled in frustration. “But he was! I’m a plague to everything I touch! I’m even hurting you right now!”

Sam and Puffy were looking more and more heartbroken by the second, and Tommy found himself wanting to curl into a ball and die. All he ever did was make people miserable.

Fran nudged his hand with her nose. Tommy ignored her.

“You’re not a plague,” Puffy said, gently holding Tommy’s very bandaged hand, “You’re a kid.”

“I’m the kid of a monster,” Tommy corrected, yanking his hand out of Puffy’s grip, “Which makes me a monster too. I’ve manipulated all of you, nobody in their right mind should care about me, I wish you would just leave me now so it would hurt less.”

“How?” Sam asked.

“It’s really simple.” Tommy rolled his eyes, pointing to the door. “You stand up and walk out. If you want to make the separation less painful, you could probably chuck me out the front door.”

“No, he wants to know how you’ve manipulated us,” Puffy elaborated, still sounding endlessly patient, “If you’ve manipulated us, surely you know how you did it?”

Tommy nodded. “Oh, well, I gave you a sob story so you guys would pity me, and then I acted all nice so that you would like me.”

“You hate pity,” Sam said, “So the first part of the plan isn’t true. And you are a nice person, Tommy, even if you hide it under that brash exterior.”

“And Tommy, the fact that you’re worried about manipulating us is a pretty good sign that you’re not,” Puffy said gently, “We care about you, and that’s that. No manipulation involved. You’re not a monster.”

“I am,” Tommy insisted.

“Would you say Drista is a monster?” Sam asked, “Dream’s her brother, is she a monster?”

Tommy scoffed. “Drista didn’t participate in any of that crap.”

“So how come being his son automatically makes you a monster?”

“You don’t understand,” Tommy said, gripping his blanket so tightly he could probably rip it, “I need to be a monster.”

“Why?” Puffy asked patiently.

“Because monsters should be hurt!” Tommy shouted, ignoring the tears that had started spilling from his eyes again, “Because then they would be justified in hunting me down and killing me! You can’t justify torturing a kid!”

Tommy buried his face in his hands. “And Niki wouldn’t do that without justification. She _wouldn’t_.”

Niki was _kind_ and _loving._ She wouldn’t kill Tommy without good reason. She wouldn’t hold him down while he was tortured without good reason.

Sam slowly wrapped his arms around Tommy, gently bringing Tommy to his chest. Tommy didn’t struggle against the embrace, but he didn’t reciprocate it. He just limply allowed himself to be held.

It felt like an eternity since he’d been held. Which was ridiculous, since all anyone ever did was hug him.

“You’re right,” Sam whispered, “It wasn’t justified. I swear to you that you _are_ a kid, and it wasn’t justified.”

Puffy reached over and gently stroked Tommy’s hair, causing Tommy to melt slightly.

“I am just a kid?” he confirmed.

“Yeah,” Puffy breathed out, “You didn’t deserve this.”

“To be honest,” Tommy said, pushing past the way his throat wanted to close off, “I’m not sure a monster would deserve this either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't read the chapter, Tommy gets tortured because Jack is extra mad, Niki takes him to Sam, Sam and Puffy comfort him. 
> 
> If Niki's change of heart seems sudden, I'll explain it in more later chapters. 
> 
> Also, I think we're having a Sam pov next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please be nice in the comments. <3
> 
> Also, this chapter is largely inspired by [this fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171106)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam was very familiar with the idea that life wasn’t fair.

Sam was very familiar with the idea that life wasn’t fair.

Sam would say it all the time, back when things were simpler. Sapnap stole the last cookie? Well, life wasn’t fair. It wasn’t not fair that you get beautiful green hair? Well, life wasn’t fair.

But damn, that phrase is smacking Sam in the face now.

Because Dream was Tommy’s father. _Dream,_ the man who told Sam about how he _broke_ Tommy like it was an _achievement,_ was Tommy’s father.

 _That_ wasn’t fair. That _wasn’t_ fair to Tommy, who had done nothing but fight for the things and people he loved. Tommy, who had essentially lost _two of his lives_ to Dream. Tommy, who only wanted to build a hotel, who only wanted to give people a place to stay, who only wanted to be _happy._

And then life drops this bomb on him. Then life drops the bomb that on top of having a dead brother and an absentee father, _Dream_ was Tommy’s biological father.

But, of course, life wasn’t fair, and Sam regarded the fact with such bitterness that black coffee would cower before him.

But Sam didn’t show his bitterness to Tommy. Of course he didn’t. Tommy was a kid who had managed to pick himself up after being beaten thoroughly into the ground. Tommy was the kid who inspired others to fight, to care.

But first and foremost, Tommy was a _kid._ A kid who just found out that his father was also the man who had caused him so much pain.

So, Sam offered Tommy his home. Sam offered Tommy the room that he had already set aside for Tommy just in case a situation like this ever arose.

But Sam had to admit, he had not foreseen this exact set of circumstances. Who could?

“You disgust me,” Sam told Dream almost as soon as Tommy left for Snowchester.

Dream smiled. “How so?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sam snarled, “You’ve just admitted to tormenting and abusing your _son.”_

Dream shrugged, like Sam’s accusation didn’t bother him at all. “You know I gave up my attachments. Why should it be any different for Tommy?”

Rage burned up in Sam, and it took everything he had not to explode in Dream’s face. “Then what about that damn photo?”

Dream stiffened, but he relaxed almost immediately after. Someone else might not have seen it, but Sam did.

“What photo?” Dream asked easily.

“Don’t play dumb,” Sam snapped, “The photo is charred at the edges, you clearly considered burning it.”

“Well that’s proof, isn’t it?” Dream asked, “I threw it into the fire, and someone else salvaged it.”

“Nice try.” Sam crossed his arms. “But you don’t throw a photo in the fire and only have the _edges_ charred. That’s not how it works.”

Dream sighed. “Well, you can theorize all you’d like, but it doesn’t matter in the end, does it?”

Sam hissed angrily. “I’m done here,” he growled, spinning around and opening the lava curtain, “I hope you rot.”

“Be careful, Sam,” Dream sang as he left, “Tommy is _my_ son, not yours.”

Sam wanted to _kill_ him.

Tommy stayed over at Tubbo’s that night, which was good, because when Sam returned home, there were red vines _everywhere._

And the egg was speaking.

The egg wanted him to sacrifice Fran, the egg wanted him to join it’s stupid cult, but most concerningly:

_Kill the boy. Bring him to me. Kill the son of the tyrant. You will spare him from pain. You will spare him from becoming a monster. He has already suffered so much. I can take away his pain. Bring him to me. Sacrifice him to the egg._

No, no, no, no, no. He had to get rid of it. He had to get _RID_ of it.

Puffy found Sam curled up around Fran in the middle of a half-exploded house, all traces the egg completely eradicated.

“Sam?” she asked softly.

“It wanted me to kill him,” Sam whispered, his hands still shaking even in Fran’s fur, “It wanted me to sacrifice him to it.”

“Tommy’s safe,” Puffy promised, “Tommy’s with Tubbo. The egg can’t get to him there.”

“We thought the egg couldn’t get to us here, either,” Sam said. His voice was shaking, why was his voice shaking? “Is anywhere safe?”

“We’ll just be more careful.” Puffy rubbed Sam’s shoulders gently. “You won’t kill Tommy; I know you won’t.”

Sam shuddered and nodded. He could trust Puffy. He could trust Puffy. Tommy was safe. Tommy was with Tubbo.

Puffy helped Sam rebuild the house, and Sam felt himself slowly dispel the echoes of the egg’s voice in his head.

Still, Sam wouldn’t deny the overwhelming relief he felt when Tommy texted him about Drista’s contact information.

After that, he stopped worrying about Tommy being in mortal danger and instead focused on the bomb that had been dropped on Tommy only two days ago.

Tommy would probably want to keep it a secret, and Sam wasn’t sure he blamed him. While he knew that Tommy’s character didn’t automatically change just because his father was a world class manipulator, there was no guarantee that others would not think along those lines. Especially people like Niki and Jack, who already seemed to hold some resentment toward Tommy.

Sam just wanted Tommy to be safe.

But then he gets a call from Tubbo.

“Tommy’s missing,” Tubbo said, sounding like he was about to cry, “He stepped outside about two hours ago, and after half-an-hour I wanted to check on him, but I can’t find him, and there are no footprints, and I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know where Jack is, and I’m worried—”

Sam’s mind blanked at _Jack._ Jack hated Tommy. Was Jack hurting Tommy? Had someone taken them both? Unlikely, that would be too much of a coincidence. Was Tommy already dead?

“I’m on my way,” Sam said, already rushing out of the house, “ _Keep_ _looking_.”

He couldn’t afford to panic, especially with Tubbo panicking already. With a sigh, Sam said, “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

They _would_ find him. Tommy wasn’t dead. He _couldn’t_ be.

“Okay,” Tubbo whispered, “Okay.”

Sam hung up the call, shoved his communicator into his pocket, and opened his door in a frantic rush. His heart froze when at the sight in front of him.

Niki was kneeling in front of the entrance of Sam’s home, carrying a limp body bridal style in her arms. Tears were pouring down her face as she _begged_ the body to stay wake.

Blond hair. So much blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

“Oh my god,” Sam muttered, frozen in the moment.

Niki looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. “Oh thank god, Sam, Sam, you have to help him, you have to help him, he’s hurt, and I think he might be sick, he’s so cold—”

Sam was there in an instant, frantically searching his inventory for health potions and finding only one. With shaking fingers, Sam uncorked the potion.

“Wait,” Niki said, her voice trembling, “His wrist, it’s broken. Jack yanked it too hard.”

“ _Jack_ did this?” Sam demanded, already making plans to the kill him when they next crossed paths. This was Tommy. Tommy hadn’t _done_ anything.

Niki started sobbing and babbling incoherently. Sam ignored her and carefully took Tommy into his arms. Why was there _so much blood?_

“We need to get him inside,” Sam said, forcing his voice not to be too cold, forcing himself not to burst into tears, “Get him blankets.”

Sam quickly but carefully laid Tommy out on top of his bed, trying his hardest not to jostle the injuries. His heart skipped a beat when Tommy let out a low moan.

“I know, I know,” Sam muttered, “I know it hurts, just hang in there, I’m going to help you.”

Sam quickly began searching some bandages he could make a splint with so that he could set Tommy’s wrist properly before attempting to heal him with a regen potion.

Just a Sam began wrapping Tommy’s wrist— _why was he so cold—_ Niki came back in, holding a tower of blankets.

“Pile them on,” Sam ordered, donning his ‘warden’ voice, “He’s frozen to the touch, I think he might have hypothermia. Call Puffy and Tubbo, tell them that we found Tommy. Don’t leave this house.”

Niki complied immediately, carefully tucking every blanket on top of Tommy. Tommy shivered.

 _Good. That was good._ Shivering meant that the hypothermia hadn’t gotten too bad. There was still hope.

Sam quickly and carefully wrapped the splint, tears threatening to pour over every time he heard his son’s moans of pain. Tommy might still be semi-conscious, though, which was good. Sam had to remind himself that that was good.

As Sam was completing the splint, Tommy’s eyes fluttered open, and Sam immediately shot to attention, pulling out the regen potion.

“Tommy, don’t fall asleep,” Sam said, his words sounding hushed to his own ears, “Bud, I need you to drink this potion.”

Tears were pouring down Tommy’s eyes, getting into that horrible gash on his face, which caused Tommy to screw his face up in obvious agony.

“It hur’s,” Tommy slurred, “Wil, Wil, it hurts.”

Sam almost froze, lost in being called _Wil._ But he couldn’t afford to do that. Tommy needed him.

So, Sam did the only thing he _could_ do. He ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “I know, I know,” he whispered. As Sam brought the potion close to Tommy’s mouth, Tommy’s eyes started fluttering closed.

Panic gripped Sam, and he ran his fingers through Tommy’s matted hair with even more fervor. “Baby, stay awake for me, can you do that?”

Sam didn’t have time to think about the pet name that just slipped out. He needed to focus on Tommy.

“Wil, it hur’s,” Tommy cried, beginning to sob, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Oh god. This was a child. Tommy was literal child who was covered and blood and crying for his dead brother. It was as though Sam’s heart was being torn out of his body as he watched Tommy, normally so brave and strong, sob and plead, all while _apologizing_ for feeling pain.

Sam was going to _kill_ Dream. And he was going to _destroy_ Jack.

“No, no,” Sam said, shushing him, “shh, no, you’re doing beautifully. I just need you to drink this potion, okay? I just need you to drink this potion.”

Tommy opened his mouth obediently, and Sam carefully tipped the potion into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy swallowed it, fortunately on his own, and Sam watched as the injury on Tommy’s face slowly went from a bleeding gash to an oozing cut.

Tommy let out a small sigh, presumably of relief, and fell asleep almost instantly.

Sam immediately set back to work. The potion had at least stopped the outright bleeding, but some bandages would definitely not go amiss, especially if they wanted to avoid infection in some of the still open wounds.

Tommy’s wrist seemed mostly fine, but Sam decided to treat it as a sprain just in case.

“Niki! Bring as many bandages as you can find!”

Niki almost instantly entered the room, holding a pile of gauze and wrappings and all the bandages Sam had ever stored away in his house ever. She also brought a washcloth and a water bucket.

Sam carefully took the blankets off of Tommy and gently peeled his bloodied and tattered shirt off of him.

Sam sucked in a breath. Niki let out a high-pitched whimper.

Tommy’s body was littered in small cuts and scars. The scars that were still irritated were definitely the new ones, and it sickened Sam to see how _many_ of them there were. More sickening yet, there were still so many more _old ones,_ like Tommy getting badly wounded was nothing more than a regular occurrence.

_Focus._

“Did he get the legs?” Sam asked, inspecting Tommy’s pants for blood or rips. They seemed pretty whole to him, but better safe than sorry.

“No,” Niki said, her voice shaking so much Sam could barely understand her, “I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Sam said shortly, “Hand me the washcloth.”

Niki handed Sam the washcloth wordlessly, and Sam gently took Tommy’s forearm, which was still caked with blood. Sam carefully began cleaning the blood off of Tommy’s arm, trying to avoid irritating the still oozing cuts.

When Sam was nearly done clearing away the excess blood, he suddenly realized that the cuts on Tommy’s forearm weren’t randomly placed. They were forming something. A word, to be more precise.

Nausea churned in Sam’s stomach as he stared at the word crudely carved into his son’s skin.

_Monster._

“ _What_. _The_. _Hell_ ,” Sam said, his own voice shaking. He gave Niki his most righteously furious glare he could manage.

Niki only burst into more tears, blubbering out apologies.

This was sick. Sam was going to tear Jack apart _limb_ from _limb_ when he was done helping Tommy. Because regen potions didn’t get rid of scarring. And that meant that Tommy could very well have that word on his forearm for his entire life.

Unless he tried to burn it off, and the thought made Sam want to cry then and there.

Sam quickly wrapped up those cuts, not wanting to stare at the crude words any longer.

While Sam was finishing off most of the bandaging, the door slammed open loudly, revealing Tubbo and Puffy, who looked just about like they had ran the entire way here.

“Tommy?” Tubbo asked, looking up at Sam pleadingly.

Sam nodded. “He’s, ah, he’s not doing too well, Tubbo,” Sam said quietly.

Tubbo ran to Tommy’s bedside. Sam watched as Tubbo stared down at Tommy’s mostly-bandaged body. Tubbo let out a low moan, clapping his hands over his mouth.

“How?” Tubbo whispered, his voice shaking, “Wh-who?”

Puffy pulled Tubbo in for a hug, staring at Sam in such a way that Sam knew she still wanted an answer.

“Jack,” Sam said tersely.

Tubbo let out a guttural screech at that.

Sam quickly finished the bandaging and placed the blankets back over a shivering Tommy.

“Tubbo,” Sam said quietly, “If you want, you can crawl under those blankets and hug Tommy to keep him warm. Just be careful, alright?”

Tubbo nodded, wiping tears away from his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Alright.” Sam nodded, heading out of the bedroom. “Shout if you need something. Niki, Puffy, we need to talk.”

Sam hated leaving Tommy, but Sam trusted Tubbo to keep him safe for the time being. It wasn’t like he was leaving the house or anything like that.

Besides, now that Tommy was off of death’s door, it was time to deal with the major elephant in the room.

“Alright, Niki,” Sam said, finally allowing his voice to show some of the _fury_ he had been feeling, “Explain. _Now.”_

Niki, still sobbing, explained her and Jack’s plan to kill Tommy. Already, Sam wanted to pull out his sword and stab something, but he didn’t. He just stood there, shaking with rage, allowing Niki to continue with her story.

Apparently, Jack had Tommy at sword point when Niki had spotted a photo on the ground.

Dread pooled in Sam’s stomach. The photo. Oh, Notch, the photo.

Was it wrong that he was relieved Tommy wasn’t dead?

Apparently, Niki and Jack had pieced together the truth of Tommy’s parentage and had immediately assumed that Tommy was in on all of Dream’s schemes. That Tommy had been manipulating everyone from the start.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam spat. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Puffy quivering, probably with rage. “You blame a _child_ for all of the crap that’s going on? A child who’s shown time and time again that he _hates_ Dream with everything he possesses?”

“I know!” Niki wailed, “It was so stupid, but I was just so caught up in the moment, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Wilbur and what might have—”

Puffy interrupted, her voice sounding colder than ice. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me that you told Tommy he was responsible for Wilbur’s death.”

Niki flinched, and that was as good as an answer.

Sam gritted his teeth, holding back a barrage of furious yells that he wanted to release upon Niki.

“And then what happened?” Sam asked—well, more like spat.

And Niki explained the torture. Niki explained how she _held Tommy down_ as Jack literally _cut into Tommy’s skin_ with a knife while Tommy _screamed_ and _begged_ for mercy.

“Well, what changed?” Sam demanded, his voice so frosty it could freeze the nether over, “If you were so willing to _kill_ and _torture_ a sixteen-year-old _child_ earlier, what the hell changed?”

Niki’s eyes were swimming in tears, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to feel an ounce of sympathy for her. Not when his son had just been subjected to _torture._

“I thought he was working with Dream, before,” Niki explained, “But then he started apologizing to Dream like _Dream_ was the one who was hurting him, even though the man is his father… and I, and I realized I had messed up.”

Sam let out a mildly unhinged laugh. “ _Messed up_ is an understatement.”

Niki straightened. “I will accept any punishment you deem fit for my actions.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to send Niki straight into the same prison cell as Dream—see how _she_ liked being alone with nothing but that green jerk for company—but Puffy placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sam,” she said, “Call Eret. I’m sure he has some form of security in that palace of his.”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded, pulling out his communicator with trembling fingers. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to scream or cry when he saw dried blood still on his fingers. _Tommy’s_ blood.

Sam pressed call almost furiously, trying to ignore Puffy speaking quietly to Niki. Sam had no idea what she was saying, but they’d better not be words of _comfort_. Sam wanted nothing more than to throttle Niki. Tommy _trusted_ her, and she _held him down_ while he was being tortured.

And Sam had been sitting comfortably in his house, completely ignorant of what was going on.

“Sam? What’s going on?”

“Do you have any prison cells?” Sam spat out, beginning to pace.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have any prison cells?” Sam’s voice grew louder in volume.

“Well… I have a few rooms that could serve as prison cells,” Eret said slowly, clearly confused, “But I’m not sure what you need them for. Don’t you have your own prison?”

“Oh, trust me,” Sam said, “Jack will be having a nice cozy spot in my prison, but Puffy seems to want to have some mercy on Niki, so here we are.”

“Niki? What did Niki do?”

“Oh, only held down Tommy while Jack dug a knife into his skin!”

The silence was deafening.

“Niki wouldn’t do that,” Eret said, sounding unsure even as he said it, “Niki wouldn’t.”

“She would, apparently,” Sam said. As he explained the situation to Jack, his anger gave way to bitterness.

Tommy didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t fair.

But life wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t until Puffy was taking Niki to Eret that Sam suddenly remembered Dream’s most recent words.

 _“Be careful, Sam. Tommy is_ my _son, not yours.”_

It was an obvious threat, but Sam couldn’t really bring himself to care. Tommy needed a good role model for once in his life, and Sam was determined to be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a very protective dad. 
> 
> Sorry for any potential medical inaccuracies, I was feeling too lazy to do any serious research, so I'm handwaving some of it with potion magic, sue me. 
> 
> Just so everyone knows, this fic is not going to redeem Dream. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please be nice in the comments. <3
> 
> I have a [discord](https://discord.gg/QZcnK9DNEA) now! Check it out if you'd like. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets upset, Sam comforts him.

A few hours after Tommy woke up, Tubbo burst into the room, looking terrible. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked as though he had run ten miles.

“Tommy!” he cried out, running toward his friend, “Thank god you’re awake!”

Unconsciously, Tommy flinched back. Tubbo stopped short.

“Yeah, uh, wouldn’t want to jostle those injuries, huh?” Tubbo let out what Tommy was pretty sure was supposed to be a nervous chuckle, but it sounded more like a sob.

“You can hug me,” Tommy said quietly. He glanced at Sam for assurance, and he nodded. “Just, be careful.”

Tubbo gave Tommy a small grin as he carefully wrapped his arms around Tommy. Tommy followed suit, clutching onto his friend’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo whispered, “I should’ve been more careful, I should’ve followed you, I should’ve—”

“Tubbo, you’re being dumb,” Tommy said frankly, “This wasn’t your fault.”

And it wasn’t. If anything, Tommy shouldn’t have wandered so far out.

That didn’t stop Tubbo from apologizing even more, and then Tommy started apologizing, and then Sam told them that they weren’t the ones that did this, and then Puffy made them some more hot chocolate.

It was a pretty good evening, all things considered.

The next day, Tubbo and Puffy continued searching for Jack.

“I’ll make him pay,” Tubbo promised, a dangerous vengeance in his eyes.

“Okay,” Tommy agreed, “Just… maybe not too much. I don’t want you to sacrifice your morals on my behalf.”

For some strange reason, Tubbo gave Tommy another hug after that.

Part of Tommy wanted to lean into every hug that Tubbo provided, to cling onto him until he promised to never leave, to never go away. Another part of Tommy wanted to shrink away from every touch, because he didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve to be loved, not when he was such a disgusting monster.

“Come on,” Sam said after they had left, “Let’s check on your injuries.”

Tommy sat down on his bed and peeled off his shirt. He tried not to feel too uncomfortable and exposed, especially when his skin was covered in bandages.

Sam carefully took off Tommy’s bandages one by one, and Tommy watched as they revealed scars of all shapes and sizes. Some were thin white lines on Tommy’s skin, while others were angry red lumps.

Tommy hated them. He deserved it.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Sam said, as though he were reading Tommy’s thoughts, “I promise, you didn’t deserve this.”

Tommy nodded mechanically. “I didn’t deserve this,” he whispered. He began playing it like a mantra in his head.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this.

He did deserve this. No, he didn’t deserve this.

Some of the cuts were still bad enough that Sam had to administer a new bandage. Tommy appreciated how carefully he did it, clearly trying to avoid hurting Tommy more than he already was.

It reminded Tommy of when Wilbur used to patch up Tommy’s various scrapes. He would always whisper reassuring things while carefully placing down ‘magic band-aids’.

Tommy’s vision blurred, and he quickly blinked, hoping that Sam wouldn’t see.

Another part of him really hoped that Sam would see.

“How are you doing, bud?” Sam asked gently.

Tommy’s traitorous eyes filled with even more tears at the attention, and Tommy quickly wiped them away with his still bandaged forearm.

“I’m fine,” Tommy blatantly lied.

“You don’t have to be fine,” Sam said, carefully reapplying a bandage on Tommy’s chest, “You’ve been through an ordeal, nobody expects you to bounce back up from that.”

“Well, I’m special,” Tommy said stubbornly, “I am a bouncer, I bounce from everything.”

“Okay.”

Sam stopped applying bandages suddenly. Tommy frowned. Sam wasn’t done; he still hadn’t done his forearm. And his forearm definitely needed some new bandages, Tommy could see some blood that had soaked through the current ones.

“Um… Sam?” Tommy said, “You missed a spot.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to Tommy’s forearm, and a funny looking expression crossed Sam’s face. Was he sick? Had he had a particularly unpleasant thought? Was it Tommy?

Tommy shifted in his seat, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“I mean, if you don’t want to do it, that’s fine,” he said, reaching for the edge of the bandage, “I’ll just do it myself.”

“Wait!” Sam exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and panicked sounding.

Tommy winced. Sam sighed.

“Sorry,” he said, “I just… It’s not pretty.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Sam, I’ve seen plenty of ‘not pretty’ injuries in my life. A few cuts on my arm aren’t going to make me sick; I’m a big man, remember?”

Sam let out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “Okay,” he whispered, “Okay, just… you know we love you, right?” Sam looked imploringly at Tommy. “You know that me, Puffy, and Tubbo love you, right?”

Did he know? It just seemed ludicrous to think that anyone could love someone as unlovable as Tommy. But… Tubbo cared about him. Tommy knew that. And Sam and Puffy seemed really worried about him before. So, maybe?

_“Nobody cares about you, Tommy. They just pity you.”_

Tommy clenched his fists. “This seems like a strange question to ask right before you take off a bandage,” Tommy said, his voice shaking in spite of himself.

“ _Please,_ Tommy,” Sam begged, his voice sounding more choked by the minute.

Tommy sighed. “Yeah… I, uh, I know.”

He wasn’t sure how much he believed it.

Sam didn’t look to reassured. As a matter of fact, his lips thinned. Tommy tried not to curl in on himself. This was Sam. Sam wouldn’t hurt him. Sam had proven time and time again that he wouldn’t hurt him.

But wouldn’t Tommy have said that about Niki, once upon a time?

“And you know that nothing Jack did to you has any bearing on your character?”

Tommy couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“ _Sam—”_ Tommy winced when his voice cracked. “—just take the damn bandage off.”

Sam let out another breath and nodded. “Okay, okay,” Sam muttered, sounding like he was trying to reassure himself.

Tommy stared as Sam slowly started unwrapping the bandage from around Tommy’s forearm, slowly revealing some slightly open cuts. They weren’t overly gross and gruesome, though.

Tommy let out a relieved laugh. “That’s not so bad, Sam; they must look better than you remem… remembered…”

As Sam unwrapped the last of the bandage, Tommy realized he had spoken too soon. _Way_ too soon. And suddenly Tommy understood why Sam had been so insistent on asking those strangely awkward questions.

Because they weren’t just ugly cuts. The ugly cuts spelled something.

_Monster._

Tommy couldn’t breathe.

 _“You’re sadistic! You killed Wilbur, you monster!” “You deserve this,”_ Jack had growled over Tommy’s screams, “ _You’re a monster.”_

_Monster, Monster, Monster, Monster_

Someone was touching him. Tommy flinched away violently. _Please, don’t touch him, please he didn’t do anything, please, he knew he was a monster, just please stop, please, please, please_

Tommy let out a shocked gasp as he felt something get placed in his lap. It was heavy, but… warm?

Almost automatically, Tommy touched the thing in his lap, surprised to feel the softness of fur. Quickly, Tommy dug both of his hands into the soft fur, running them back and forth mechanically, trying to push back the thoughts of a knife digging into his skin.

“Tommy?” Sam’s voice filtered into his hearing, “Tommy, can you hear me?”

Tommy nodded, suddenly aware that he was _not_ being tortured in the snow. He was in Sam’s house, sitting on his bed with Fran in his lap. Sam was sitting in front of him.

“Alright, tell me two things you see,” Sam said.

“Fran,” Tommy gasped, still struggling to breathe, “You.”

“Two things you feel?”

“Fur.” Tommy petted Fran with even more fervor. “Um, the bed… pain.”

“Two things you hear?”

“You.” Tommy thought for a moment, but it was hard to hear anything over his own shuddering breaths. “Me, I guess.”

“Okay,” Sam said softly, “Are you with me now?”

Tommy shut his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, um, I’m with you.”

“Can I touch you?”

Tommy opened his eyes, keeping his face focused on Sam. He was all too aware of the pain on his arm where the half-healed word was carved into his skin, but he was determined not to look at it. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Tommy nodded in response to Sam’s question, and Sam gently rubbed Tommy’s shoulder.

“Jack was the monster,” Sam said, his voice quivering, “Jack tortured you and branded you for something you couldn’t control. You didn’t do anything. We’ll figure out a way to get rid of that, okay? But for now, please know it isn’t true.”

Tommy swallowed. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, “Scars are called scars for a reason.”

Sam winced. “I’ll figure something out,” he said again, and this time, Tommy _knew_ he was reassuring himself.

Tommy shut his eyes again. “Let’s just… wrap it up again,” he muttered, “I don’t want to look at it.”

Sam quickly got a new bandage and covered the damned words with swift accuracy.

“Here,” Sam said, placing a soft, red sweater into Tommy’s arms.

Tommy pulled the sweater over his head, alarmed by the inhuman softness against his skin. He was mildly tempted to snuggle into it, but Tommy wasn’t Tubbo. He wasn’t going to _snuggle_ into one of Sam’s sweaters.

Instead, Tommy fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves, grateful that the sleeves were long enough to cover the bandaged word on his forearm.

“So,” Sam said, “What do you want to do? You could eat something, or we can go somewhere, or if you had something else in mind, we can do that.”

Tommy twisted his cuff, not looking up. He didn’t think he could stand looking up at Sam, looking at the damn _kindness_ in his eyes, like Tommy wasn’t the monster that everyone else knew him to be.

“I’m not a monster,” Tommy muttered to himself, “I’m not.”

Of course, Sam _had to_ hear Tommy’s words.

“You’re not a monster,” Sam confirmed, “You’re a kid. A wonderful, selfless kid. And anybody who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

That sounded like something Wilbur would say. Wilbur before their exile, that is.

Tommy wished he would stop thinking about Wilbur. He especially wished that he would stop comparing Sam to him. It only hurt more that way.

“Ah, Sam, you’re being sappy,” Tommy said, trying to summon his old brashness, “I’m not sure it’s a good look for you.”

Sam chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, “But somebody has to be sappy here.”

Tommy swallowed. “It’s just that…” Tommy buried himself deeper into Sam’s sweater. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me how you feel, Tommy.” Sam’s voice was soft. Patient. Stupidly _understanding._

It was _so confusing_.

And suddenly, Tommy’s confusion was replaced with anger. Because this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Sam got to play with his mind too. Tommy was sick of his mind being played with.

“Nobody loves me.” Tommy’s voice became suddenly bold. He straightened and glared at Sam. “So, I wish you would stop pretending you did.”

Sam’s face twisted in such a way that one might think that Tommy stabbed him in the heart. Tommy hated him for it.

“I do love you,” Sam said, sounding a little bit like he wanted to cry, “And I know Tubbo and Puffy do too.”

Tommy took Fran off his lap and jumped off of his bed, refusing to wince at the pain in his body at the sudden motion.

“No! They don’t!”

Sam opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Tommy slammed his foot against the ground like an impudent child.

“No, no, listen to me damnit!” Hot tears pricked the corners of Tommy’s eyes, and Tommy blinked them back furiously. “Nobody gives a crap about me. Everyone who has ever said they loved me has proved that they were _lying!”_

Running his fingers through his greasy hair, Tommy let out a broken laugh. “Phil never pretended to love me, so he’s no loss. Wilbur? Maybe he loved me at first, but he certainly didn’t act like it near the end. Niki was like a _big sister_ to me, and you know how that went. And don’t get me started on _Dream!”_

The last word came out as a guttural scream, and Tommy clutched onto his hair, like it was his only life line in this stupid world.

“Why does he have to be my father?! I don’t want him to be my father!” Tommy shouted, “It’s not fair! All he ever did was hurt me and then he would cradle me in his arms. And it was so confusing and it messed with my head. And before I could just say he was manipulating me, but now it turns out that he apparently cared about me once before casting me aside, and I don’t even know _why!”_

Sam stood up from his chair, but he didn’t step closer to Tommy. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Am I just that unlovable?!” Tommy asked, wishing he could shut himself up. But Tommy never could do that, huh? He was an annoying brat who could never shut up. “Because _nobody_ stays! And I’m sounding like Wilbur now, and I don’t want to sound like Wilbur, but I don’t know how else I’m supposed to feel!”

“A lot of people have failed you, and I personally apologize,” Sam said, “But I swear it’s not your fault.”

“And now you come in,” Tommy continued, trying to blink past the tears that were now steadily flowing from his eyes, “And you act so patient, and kind, and you’re always there, and I hate it because I know it can’t last, there has to be some kind of catch, and I can’t do this again!”

Tommy collapsed to his knees, and Sam crouched down in front of him.

“I can’t,” Tommy sobbed, “I can’t.”

“Can I hug you?” Sam whispered.

Tommy almost shook his head, almost shouted about how _no he didn’t want to be hugged, because then he would be falling into the same damn trap he had fallen into too many times before._

But to Tommy’s surprise, he found himself nodding, because Sam’s hugs were _warm_ and _soft_ and so incredibly _safe._ And even if it was a trap, maybe Tommy could find it within himself to enjoy it for a moment, to lean into the comfort long enough to pretend that maybe somebody could love him.

Sam wrapped his arms around Tommy, and Tommy clung onto him, digging his face into Sam’s shoulder and soaking Sam’s shirt with Tommy’s tears. And Sam held him, and he never once let go, or squeezed so hard that it felt like Tommy was suffocating, or whispered lies into Tommy’s ear.

“I hate him,” Tommy whispered, “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

“I know.” Sam began rubbing small circles into Tommy’s back. “But I promise you’re loved. I promise that Puffy and Tubbo care. I promise that I will never leave you, and that there’s nothing you could ever do to get me to stop loving you.”

Love was a funny thing. In fits of emotion, it was all too easy to say the words Sam was saying now, but Tommy knew all too well that it wasn’t so easy.

“What if I blow up the entire country and beg for you to kill me?” Tommy demanded, “Would you do it?”

“No.”

“What if it turned out that I was working for Dream the entire time and this was all just a game to play with your emotions?” Tommy demanded, “What if I’m exactly who Jack says I am?”

“You’re not,” Sam said.

“But what if I was?” Tommy’s voice bordered on desperate, because he needed to know. He needed to know where Sam’s love stopped.

“I would be hurt,” Sam admitted, “But I don’t think I could ever stop loving you, Tommy. You could stab me through with a sword, and I wouldn’t stop loving you.”

“Don’t say that,” Tommy gasped, clutching onto Sam more tightly, “What’s wrong with you? That’s stupid, that’s so stupid. You shouldn’t love me if I stabbed you with a sword.”

“Did you ever stop loving Wilbur?”

Tommy hesitated. “Well… I hated him, at first,” he admitted, “But I’m not sure I could ever stop loving Wilbur.” Tommy hated himself for it. It made him weak.

“It’s called unconditional love,” Sam whispered, carding his hand through Tommy’s hair, “And I know you’re not familiar with it, but I’m determined to give you some.”

For some inexplicable reason, this just made Tommy sob louder.

“It’s not going to last,” Tommy insisted, “It never lasts.”

“This will,” Sam promised, “I swear I’ll love you until I die, and nothing you do or say can stop me.”

Tommy couldn’t speak past his tears after that, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. He just hugged him patiently, never telling Tommy to shut up, never forcing himself away, never ridiculing Tommy for his weakness.

It felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have more plot in it, but then Sam and Tommy decided to have a moment. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments! <3
> 
> Also, feel free to check out my [discord](https://discord.gg/QZcnK9DNEA)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy talks to Niki

After that stupidly embarrassing event, Sam led Tommy to the kitchen, where they had a quiet breakfast of eggs. Tommy was still struggling to understand what had even just happened.

Sam said that he cared about Tommy. Not only cared about him. Sam said that he _loved_ Tommy like it was that simple, that easy. Like someone could simply decide that they loved someone unconditionally, with no terms or rules or setbacks.

Had anyone ever felt that way about Tommy before?

Wilbur might’ve, before Pogtopia. Tubbo might, but even he had accused Tommy of being selfish and a liability right before exiling him.

Tommy had forgiven Tubbo for that, though, and a small part of Tommy whispered that Tubbo had still cared about Tommy even during that argument. A small part of Tommy wondered if that was the reason Tubbo got so angry, because Tubbo cared too much.

Well, it didn’t do any good dwelling on it now. Dream had been manipulating both of them, and Tommy had put that rut in his and Tubbo’s relationship behind him. He and Tubbo had enjoyed plenty of good times since then.

And then there was Sam. Sam, who was putting a huge pile of steaming eggs on Tommy’s plate, telling him to eat up. Sam, who carefully bandaged his wounds when he could’ve just left Tommy to die. Sam, who had held Tommy and promised him that he was loved, that Sam would never leave.

It was weird.

“Why?” Tommy finally asked, taking a bite of the eggs. They were good, but he bet Puffy could make them better.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Why what?”

Tommy scowled. He wasn’t mad, though. Just… frustrated, he supposed.

“Why do you care?” Tommy asked, “You told me that you loved me, but you never told me why.”

Sam nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you’re you. At first, you were a kid who needed support, so I agreed to build your hotel. And then I spent more time with you, and I grew to care about you.”

Tommy glanced down at his eggs bitterly. “So, you pity me.”

“No,” Sam said so firmly that Tommy looked back up at him in surprise, “I never looked down on you, Tommy. I only ever wanted to help because that man put you through hell, and nobody once did anything about it. But I love you for you, not for your circumstances.”

“There’s nothing special about me,” Tommy muttered.

“Tommy, you are probably one of the most selfless people I know,” Sam said, “and also one of the strongest. You are brave, and kind, and caring. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

Tommy felt uncomfortably warm. Everything Sam said had just opposed everything Tommy thought he knew about himself. _Selfish, weak, cowardly, cruel, heartless._

But… those were all things Dream, Jack, and Niki had told him. Why did Tommy believe them?

He was suddenly aware of the dull pain pulsing under the bandage around his forearm, hiding the word that would probably haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.

Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to think about this anymore.

Desperate to change the subject, Tommy spoke abruptly.

“I want to visit Niki.”

Sam visibly started, straightening in his seat. He frowned, and Tommy forced himself not to waver, instead preparing to argue his case.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

Tommy swallowed and nodded.

“You said she was sorry, right?” Tommy jabbed at his scrambled eggs with his fork. “She won’t hurt me. I just… I don’t know, I just want to talk to her.”

Sam sighed, looking defeated. “I’m assuming you’d like to talk to her alone?”

Tommy nodded, not looking Sam in the eyes, instead electing to look at his shoulder.

“Do you promise to leave the second you feel yourself feeling unsafe in any way, shape, or form?”

Tommy nodded again.

“It would make me feel better if you said it out loud,” Sam said, his voice somehow firm and gentle at the same time.

Tommy took a deep breath. “I promise that if I feel myself feeling ‘unsafe’—” He made air quotes. “—in any way; I’ll leave.”

Sam stared at him searchingly. “Okay,” Sam sighed, “Okay, I’ll allow it. I’d rather be in there with you, but I know you probably wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Tommy swallowed. “No, I don’t think I would.” He looked up imploringly at Sam. “I’ll bring a weapon; I won’t be defenseless.”

Sam nodded, still looking like he had swallowed a lemon. “Okay, I’ll take you to Eret’s.”

“I can walk by myself,” Tommy muttered.

“I know,” Sam said simply, “But too many people have tried to kill you recently for me to feel any semblance of peace knowing you’re on your own.”

Well, Tommy supposed that was fair. And he would be lying if he said that he hated the extra protection.

The walk to Eret’s castle was uneventful, and Tommy filled it with ramblings about whatever came to mind. Sam never once told him to shut up.

When they reached the castle, Eret was waiting for them at the entrance. Tommy ignored the familiar stab of anger he felt whenever he saw Eret. Now wasn’t the time to be harassing the person locking up someone who wanted to kill Tommy a day ago.

“Welcome,” Eret said. He smiled warmly at Tommy. “Good to see that you’re alright, Tommy.”

Tommy flushed and crossed his arms, immediately aware of the pain in his forearm. He hated it. He hated it so much.

“I’m always alright,” Tommy said, “I’m never not alright.”

Eret nodded, but Tommy had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t believe him.

“I’m assuming you want to visit, um… the prisoner?” Eret wore a grimace when he said those words. Was it because he didn’t like what happened to Tommy? Or was it because he didn’t like Niki being in prison? Or was it both?

Tommy decided he wouldn’t dwell on it.

“Yes,” Tommy said, “I want to speak to her.”

Sam put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy was pretty sure it was meant to be comforting. It felt comforting, at any rate, not that Tommy would ever admit it.

“Alright,” Eret said, “Follow me.”

They followed Eret down the hallways of the castle. Tommy ignored the way his heart felt like it was beating louder than his footsteps as they made a turn. Tommy was fine. Niki couldn’t hurt him. He was just going to go in, speak to her, and then walk out.

They stopped in front of a door. Sam turned to Tommy.

“Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?” Sam asked. Was he worried?

“Yes,” Tommy said, grateful that his voice didn’t waver, “It’s Niki. I just want to talk to her.”

Based on the way Sam glared at the door, he was not overly pleased with this arrangement. “Fine.” He turned to Eret. “There’s nothing dangerous in the room?”

Eret shook his head. “Nothing that Tommy can’t fend for himself against, at any rate. I doubt he’s going to allow himself to get smothered by a pillow.”

Tommy snorted. “You got that right. So, can I go in now?”

“In a minute,” Eret said, glancing at the door, “Someone’s already in there.”

Surprise rose up in Tommy. Somebody was already in there? Who? Was it Tubbo? Maybe Puffy? One of the egg people? Well, there was an easy way to find out.

“Really?” Tommy asked, “Who?”

Eret opened his mouth but was interrupted by the door slamming open suddenly. All three of them jumped, and Tommy swore loudly.

“Wow, I didn’t realize there was an entire procession waiting out here,” the culprit said, closing the door behind them, “I would’ve been louder.”

As Tommy massaged his chest to calm his racing heart, he peered at the person in front of him.

Blond hair. Green eyes. Freckles.

Tommy’s mind blanked, and he stumbled back. _He was here, why wasn’t he wearing his mask, what was he doing here—_

“Tommy,” Sam said softly, “You’re safe. It’s not him.”

Tommy blinked, realizing that Sam had to be right. The person in front of him had their hands stuffed into the pockets of their purple hoody. Purple, not green. Their long hair hung over their shoulders. Long, not short. Heck, even their height was an inch or two smaller than Tommy. Short, not tall.

Realization hit Tommy like a truck.

_Drista._

“Oh boy,” Drista said, cringing, “Here, let me get out my ‘aunt sunglasses.’ They might help with the eye problem.”

“No, no, no,” Tommy said quickly, waving his hands violently, “No, that isn’t necessary. Sorry, I just lost my head for a moment. You know how the head can be sometimes.”

Drista nodded, still placing large sunglasses on. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, “But I still wanted to wear these for my grand entrance, which has somewhat been ruined.”

“Your grand entrance?” Sam asked.

“yeah, I was gonna walk up to your house and say something cool along the lines of, ‘how’s my favorite nephew,’ and it was going to be awesome.” Drista looked at Sam like she was studying something new. “Are you my nephew’s new guardian?”

Sam stared at Drista for a moment before finally saying, “Yes, or, at least, I’d like to be.”

Tommy ignored the confused warmth in his chest, instead electing to focus on Drista. “Um, Drista, maybe we could _not_ use the aunt-nephew thing in his presence?” Tommy jerked his head in Eret’s direction.

Eret was looking very confused at this point. “I’m sorry, what’s going on?”

“Eret,” Tommy said, “This is Drista, um, the green boy’s sister. She used to wear clothes much more similar to his.” He turned to Drista. “By the way, what’s with that?”

It was hard to tell underneath the sunglasses, but based off of her tone of voice, Tommy assumed that she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I was just going to wear the same mask and colored-sweater as my _dear_ brother because of course that would really help with your trauma and distinguishing that I am Drista and not you-know-who.”

That made sense. That was also strangely thoughtful of Drista.

“I don’t have trauma,” Tommy said stubbornly, “but… ah, thank you.”

Drista nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“So, Drista,” Sam said, “What were you doing here?”

Drista straightened to attention, holding a finger up. “I’ll tell you. I get a very interesting call from my… _friend,_ Tommy. So, I decide I’m going to visit my _dear_ brother in prison. But, when I get here, I learn from Tubbo that I have two prisoners that I need to visit. So, since according to Tubbo, the warden was still taking care of Tommy; I decided I’d visit the more accessible prisoner first.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Why are you grinning like that?”

Drista’s grin only grew wider. “Well, I _may_ have given her a black eye…”

Tommy laughed in spite of himself. Sam smiled, and Eret looked resigned. “How bad is it?”

Drista swatted the air with her hand. “Oh, you can find out when you feed her or whatever,” she said brusquely, “It’s not like she didn’t deserve it, _honestly_. Even _she_ knew it.”

“She does deserve it,” Tommy agreed. He glanced up at Sam, who nodded.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Anyway,” Tommy said, “As much as I’d love to stay here and chat, I’d really like to talk to _the_ _prisoner—”_ He said _prisoner_ very dramatically. “—real quick, so… can I?”

Eret nodded, and Sam gently rubbed the back of Tommy’s shoulder.

“If you feel threatened—” he began.

Tommy rolled his eyes, nodding. “I’ll leave, I know, I know.”

Sam gave Tommy a small smile. “You know me, I’m a worry-wart.”

Tommy nodded, trying not to think of a time when Wilbur would say the same thing. He made his way toward the door.

“Give her another punch for me,” Drista said.

Tommy nodded. “Will do.” His hand hovered over the doorknob.

“I love you,” Sam said.

A warm emotion flooded Tommy, mixing with that familiar confusion. Because Sam could probably say he loved Tommy a million times, and Tommy still wouldn’t stop questioning _why_ he felt that way.

But, for whatever reason, the words were all Tommy needed to grab and turn the cold doorknob, opening the door into the room.

Tommy stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, shutting out the others.

The room was pretty nice for a prison. As a matter a fact, it was downright luxury compared to Dream’s cell. There were no windows, but a nice bed was pressed against the wall, and a soft-looking rug was sitting on the floor.

Niki was sitting on the bed, massaging her black eye. She glanced up at Tommy and froze.

Tommy found himself freezing as well.

And for a moment, the entire room felt like frozen ice, as if one wrong placed word, one wrong placed step could cause everything to shatter into a million pieces. Niki and Tommy just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

But what was Tommy supposed to say? Niki was his _friend,_ his _sister._ Niki had been there when Wilbur had lost himself in Pogtopia, Niki had been there when Wilbur pressed that button, Niki was _always there._

Niki was there when Jack tackled him into the snow. Niki was there when Jack screamed insults at him. Niki was there when Jack _tortured—_

And now Niki was here, staring at Tommy with a broken expression, looking so different from that cold, angry woman from two days before.

Was Tommy just supposed to forgive her? Pretend that everything was fine?

But everything _wasn’t_ fine. _Nothing_ was fine.

The room was still silent, painfully so. Somebody had to speak soon or Tommy might spontaneously combust.

Tommy unclenched and clenched his hands repeatedly and took a deep breath.

“Niki,” he said, almost like he was experimenting with the name on his tongue.

Niki looked at the floor. “Tommy,” she muttered.

Tommy felt himself to begin to shake. She had done this to him, and she wouldn’t even look him in the eyes?

And suddenly, all of the anxiety he had been feeling was replaced by icy anger.

“Coward,” Tommy whispered. As his anger grew, his voice grew louder. “Coward, look at me when I talk to you damnit.”

Niki snapped her head back up, but Tommy was too busy trying not to recoil from his own words.

_“Look me in the eyes when I talk to you, Tommy,” Dream would always say right before punishing him._

Tommy didn’t want to be like him, so why was he saying things like that? Was he becoming him? Would Tommy one day be the Dream that Tommy knew today? Would Tommy hurt people, manipulate people, kill people, and destroy countries like it was all a game?

_Monster._

“Sorry,” Tommy whispered, “You can stay looking at the ground if you want; it’s dumb of me to try and stop you.”

“No,” Niki said, her voice cracking, “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve never hurt you like that.”

“Then why did you?” Tommy demanded, trying to swallow down the lump that was forming in his throat, “Because I’m inclined to agree with you and Jack, but Sam says it’s not true, and I trust Sam, but if Sam is right, then it means that you hurt me for no reason.”

Tears were actually rolling down Niki’s cheeks. “I know,” she whispered.

For not the first time that day, frustration stirred up inside Tommy. “Why?” he asked again, “You were like a _sister_ to me, Niki. Did you just… forget all that? I understand if you did. I know I’m not the easiest person to handle, but it…” Tommy swallowed, forcing the words out. “It was insensitive to attack me like that.”

That wasn’t even close to what Tommy was trying to convey. A part of Tommy wanted to scream and shout. Another part of him wanted to burst into tears. But instead, his words took the middle road, doing nothing to convey the _hurt_ in Tommy’s chest whenever he thought about Niki, doing nothing to convey the way it wanted to eat away at Tommy from the inside.

“You’re right,” Niki choked out through her tears, “I wasn’t thinking clearly; I thought you were working with Dream—”

“Dream hurt me, Niki,” Tommy interrupted coldly, “And he’s the cause of two of my lives being taken away. If we were working together, why would he kill his own son twice?”

Niki flinched, and Tommy hated himself for feeling vindicated for it. _But she had held him down while he thrashed in agony and it had hurt like hell, and she was—_

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I know that won’t make things right, but I truly am sorry. I was wrong, and I should’ve never taken out my grief on you. I _especially_ shouldn’t have used your parentage against you. That was unfair to you, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Tommy stared. He hadn’t been expecting… that.

A large part of Tommy wanted to tell Niki exactly where she could put that apology. Apologies didn’t fix anything. Apologies didn’t get rid of a big word carved into Tommy’s skin. Apologies didn’t make the hurt go away. But…

_“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Tommy.”_

Tommy didn’t want to be like him. Tommy didn’t want to crush people like that, even if they probably deserved it.

But he couldn’t say it was okay, because it _wasn’t_ okay.

“Thanks… for apologizing, I guess,” Tommy said, his voice taut.

Niki didn’t look all that reassured as she started wiping her eyes with the hem of her sleeves. She sniffed loudly, as if _she_ were the victim in this situation. As if _Tommy_ wasn’t the one standing there with at least twenty new scars and nearly ten bandages still covering the wounds.

She looked pathetic.

_“Are you crying right now? Stop being so pathetic.”_

“Get out of my head,” Tommy muttered so quietly that Niki couldn’t hear. Dream was in prison. He wasn’t in Tommy’s brain. Those were just some stupid memories that Tommy wished would just leave him _alone._

“Well, goodbye, I guess,” Tommy said inching toward the door, “I, uh, hope you have some good reflection time, or whatever you do in there.”

“Goodbye, Tommy,” Niki said through her tears, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy shut the door behind him with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drista has finally joined the party. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please be nice in the comments, and I hope you enjoyed! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drista is a pog aunt.

Drista hadn’t thought much of it when Dream stopped replying to their parent’s texts and calls.

Sure, Mom and Dad had been complaining about it for almost a couple of months now, but Drista had kind of just assumed that Dream got sick of their constant checkups. Heck, Drista would probably block them the minute she received constant “are you going to get married yet” from Mom or “I hope the wars have calmed down” from Dad. Like, imagine being a full-grown adult and your parents still messaged you embarrassing things like that. Drista would’ve stopped replying too.

Heck, Drista wasn’t even all that surprised when Dream stopped replying to _her_ messages. She felt a little hurt, maybe, but not all that surprised. Dream was way older than Drista; he probably just wanted space from his energetic teenage sister.

Still, Drista’s suspicions rose when Dream invited her to the SMP for a single day to visit Tommy.

This was strange for many reasons. First of all, based on what Dream had told her before, Dream and Tommy were not on what one would call _good terms_. Second of all, her brother hadn’t been answering neither her nor their parents’ messages for weeks, and _now_ he replied with an invitation?

It just seemed bizarre, that was all.

Still, Drista would be an idiot to turn down an invitation form Dream, even if the circumstances were incredibly suspicious.

Sadly, her suspicions were immediately confirmed when she found that Tommy had been _exiled,_ was living in a _tent,_ and seemed starved for both attention and actual nutrients.

_What the hell._

She did everything she could to try to make Tommy feel better, but Drista had a feeling she was only mildly successful.

Dream brushed her off when she pointed out all of her _very valid_ concerns.

“It’s fine, Drista,” he said brusquely.

Drista gaped. “It’s not fine!” she shouted, “You’re starving him!”

Dream scoffed. “I’m not _starving_ him,” he said, “He’s refusing to eat. I’ve been trying to feed him.”

Drista crossed her arms. “Seriously? And what about the fact that you two were basically mortal enemies until now?”

Dream shrugged. “I’m the only one who’s trying to help him during his exile.”

Drista scowled, even though Dream couldn’t see it through the mask she was currently wearing. “And why are you trying to help him? And if you’re trying to help him, why haven’t you helped him built, I don’t know, an actual house? Or some proper clothes?”

Dream’s lips thinned, and Drista knew that she had properly ticked him off.

“I have the situation under _control,”_ he said, his voice suddenly harsh, “I thank you for your help. You can leave now.”

Drista knew it would be useless arguing the point any longer. Dream could get _stubborn_ when he wanted to.

So instead, she stormed off, holding onto the hope that Dream was right and was helping Tommy in every way that he could.

It was unlikely, but a girl could hope.

That hope was promptly shattered when Drista received a call from an unknown number. Ever the curious teenager, she picked it up. It wasn’t often she got calls from an unknown number, and she might as well have fun with it.

“Hello?” she began, leaning against her bedrest.

“Drista! How are you doing?”

Wait a minute… Drista knew that voice. Drista knew that loud tone.

“ _Tommy_?”

So, it turned out that Dream was an even bigger jerk than Drista had suspected, which was… just wonderful. Great. Now Drista was going to have to explain to her parents that Dream was being a terrible person, and that she had _suspected_ he was being a terrible person, but decided not to do anything about it like a coward.

Damn, guilt was not a fun thing to carry around.

Still, Drista pushed past her own crippling guilt to tell Tommy that _his_ guilt was unnecessary, and Dream deserved everything Tommy threw at him.

And then Tommy decided to drop this bombshell on her:

“Dream’s my father.”

What. _What._ What the _hell. What the actual hell._

And then Drista had to tell Tommy the unfortunate truth that Dream had not _once_ mentioned having children to _anyone_ in his immediate family, which was not fun. She could hear the kid’s heart being crushed all the way from here.

As soon as Drista ended the call, she grabbed the smiley-face mask on her bedside table and snapped the damn thing in half. She used to look up to Dream; she used to want to be just like him. No more.

After shoving on a purple sweater, Drista stormed downstairs, declaring that she had some business to settle in the SMP, and she would be back at an indiscernible time.

Mom and Dad knew Drista well enough to trust her not to get killed, so they bid her farewell, telling her to send them updates at least every other day. Drista promised that she would message them _every day._ If Dream refused to message her or her parents, Drista would be a better child than Dream could ever be.

Maybe Drista was being just a little bit spiteful, but she felt pretty justified in it. Like, not only did Dream manipulate and abuse a teenager, he manipulated and abused a teenager who just _happened_ to be his _own son_ that he had _never_ told anyone about.

So, you’ll have to forgive Drista for being just a _little_ spiteful.

Drista had two main goals for when she finally reached the SMP. First off was too visit Dream in prison and absolutely raise hell. Second on the list was too visit Tommy and be the best aunt he could ever ask for.

That plan was quickly revised when she learned from a simultaneously angry and distressed Tubbo that Tommy had been nearly tortured to death almost immediately after she ended the call with him.

So, instead of going to Dream, who was apparently inaccessible at the moment anyway, Drista marched up to the castle to give Niki a little piece of her mind.

When she was done punching Niki in the face, she left the room to find Tommy, which was great! Well, it was great to see that he was up and about; Tubbo kind of implied that he was dying.

And then Drista let the aunt thing slip, which was apparently being kept a secret. That should’ve occurred to her, so that was her bad.

As soon as Tommy entered Niki’s room and shut the door behind him, Drista returned her attention to Tommy’s new father.

“So, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” she said, holding her hand out for a hand-shake, “I’m Drista. You’re Sam, right?”

Tommy’s new father shook her hand. He had a firm grip. That was good. Drista didn’t want to leave her nephew in the hands of a weakling. Drista shoved her hand back into the soft pocket of her hood.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes darting toward the door.

Drista glanced over to Eret. She needed to set some things straight, especially since she had slipped-up and openly declared Tommy her nephew. She was ninety-percent sure Sam knew, just by the way he didn’t look at all perplexed by Drista’s declaration.

“Now, I don’t know what assumptions you have going on in that noggin of yours, but—”

Eret immediately raised his arms in surrender. “I’m not assuming anything,” he said quickly, “Well, I might be assuming some things, but I will not voice my assumptions to anyone.”

Drista supposed that would have to be good enough.

“Good,” she said, returning her attention back to Sam. “Now, I’m kinda new at this whole…” She glanced back at Eret. “…thing, but I’m pretty sure that somewhere in there, I’m supposed to threaten you or something.”

Sam smiled. “Probably.”

Oh yes, Drista liked him a lot.

“Alright, here it goes. If you _ever—”_ She jabbed her finger against Sam’s armored chest. “—do _anything_ to hurt Tommy, there will be hell to pay.” She glared over at Eret. “Same goes for you, jerk.”

Eret winced.

Sam nodded. “I’m glad we’re in agreement,” he said calmly, “I promise that I would rather die than let anything happen to Tommy again.”

Drista smiled. “Good.”

Nothing else was said before Tommy finally re-emerged from the room, looking shaken. Almost instantly, Sam was hovering over him.

“How’d it go?” he asked, his voice sounding taught, “Did she say anything?”

“Do I need to punch her again?” Drista added. She wouldn’t mind punching Niki again. It had definitely had a good sort of catharsis the first time around.

Tommy shook his head. “No, she just apologized,” he said quietly, “I, um, I’m lost in my own thoughts, you know how those pesky thoughts can be.”

Tommy let out a laugh, but even Drista could tell that he wanted to cry.

Quick, what would a really cool aunt do in this situation? Offer him alcohol? Drista didn’t have any alcohol currently, and she really doubted that Sam would allow it.

“I know,” she said in a burst of inspiration, “Let’s prank someone. I’m desperately starved for some bonding time.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, alright.” He looked over to Sam.

Sam nodded. “As long as it’s safe, it’s fine by me.”

Tommy’s smile was a lot wider now. “Oh yeah, we’ll be perfectly safe,” he said, “Safety is my middle name. I haven’t forgotten that safety gear.”

Drista felt like she was severely missing out on the joke when Sam laughed. Still, she couldn’t be too upset about it, because at least Tommy was finding something to joke about, especially after the bad run he’s had so far.

“Don’t worry, Samwise,” Drista said, “I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’d better,” Sam said, still smiling.

Tommy crossed his arms. “I’m standing right here, you know. And why does it sound like Drista’s taking me out on a date or something? It’s weird.”

Drista laughed at that. “That would be very weird,” she agreed, “Now come along, we have some innocent souls to prank.”

As they were walking away, Drista heard Sam say, “Love you, stay safe!”

Tommy just replied with a simple, “Okay, okay, we get it!”

Drista decided that she _really_ liked Sam.

They ended up throwing eggs at the weird egg propaganda that had cropped up all over the SMP. Drista wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Why is there an Eggpire all of a sudden?” Drista asked, carefully climbing over a strange red vine.

Tommy shrugged. “Hell if I know. One day, everything is relatively normal, the next, Bad is raving about this _egg_. It’s the ugliest thing too, just a giant red orb.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t something you heard every day. Even so, the entire situation just seemed… really _strange._

And Drista had learned not to ignore her instincts, not after what happened last time.

“Why was he so excited about an ugly red egg?” Drista asked.

“He said something about it speaking to him.” Tommy shrugged, tossing a (perfectly normal) egg at one of the red posters. Drista took a certain satisfaction from seeing the yoke drip all over the creepy propaganda. “I didn’t hear anything, so I’m what you’d call a neutral party.”

“Good for you,” Drista said, handing Tommy another egg.

“It’s somewhat hard to stay neutral, however,” Tommy grunted, throwing the egg at the poster again, “When the members are quite literally trying to kidnap or kill you.”

Drista froze. “Wait, what?”

Tommy nodded, chuckling a little bit. “Well, that’s just the day in the life, innit? I keep my distance, and Sam steps in when it’s looking actually bad.”

Drista frowned, still trying to wrap her mind around the concept that yet _another_ party was trying to kill her teenage nephew.

“I’m sorry, why are we egging posters that belong to a _cult_ trying to _kill_ you?”

Tommy blinked. “Because it’s fun?”

Drista sighed and then winced when Tommy flinched. What had Dream _done_ to him?

“Tommy, we promised Sam we would be safe,” Drista said, “I know I’m the ‘cool Aunt’ and all, but I’d really rather not see you with any more bandages than you already have currently.”

For whatever reason, Tommy grabbed onto his forearm at the words. Drista made note of it, storing it away for later.

“This is perfectly safe, Drista,” Tommy promised, “People mess with the propaganda all the time, and nobody cares. Besides, none of those Egg people are even here right now.”

Well, Tommy did have a point. Nobody was actually around at the moment.

“Fine,” Drista consented, “But I’ll have you know that it’s only because I love the dramatic irony of Egg propaganda being egged.”

Tommy nodded, grinning mischievously. “I knew we would get along, Aunt Drista. Aunt Dris. Aunt D. Auntie Drista.”

Drista laughed, chucking an egg at a nearby poster herself. “Every time you call me one of those, I’m calling you nephew.”

“Fair enough,” Tommy agreed, “But don’t get too sappy about it. I’m allergic to sappiness.”

“Oh, I don’t’ know,” Drista said, grinning, “My dear nephew. Or maybe, ‘my beloved nephew’. Though I suppose I could say ‘my favorite nephew’ when I’m feeling uncreative.”

Tommy made a disgusted face. “Ew, those are so boring,” he complained, “How about ‘Very Huge Nephew’ or ‘Very Strong Nephew’.”

“Um, no.”

Tommy squawked indignantly. Drista only laughed.

Eventually they met up with Tubbo and a woman named Puffy, who were still searching for Jack exhaustedly. Drista still had some unfinished business to do with Sam, so she left Tommy with Tubbo.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, nephew of mine.”

Tommy laughed. “What a shame,” he said, “I was so looking forward to being free of my _Auntie Drista_.”

Tubbo let out a high-pitched laugh, and Drista snorted.

“You’re making me sound like a grandma,” she said.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Well, you’re making me sound younger than you, so we’re even.”

Drista nodded. “Fair enough.”

As she headed back toward the prison area, Drista messaged Sam, having gotten the number off of Tommy.

_Drista: Hey can you meet me at the prison._

Sam didn’t disappoint, replying almost instantly.

_Awesamdude: Yeah sure. Is Tommy with you?_

See, this is what Drista liked to see in a father-figure. Her respect for Sam just seemed to grow and grow by the minute.

_Drista: No, he’s with Tubbo and Puffy._

_Awesamdude: Probably for the best. Thanks for not leaving him by himself._

Drista snorted.

_Drista: Who the hell do you think I am?_

_Awesamdude: a teenager_

_Drista: Fair enough_

Drista met Sam outside of the prison, and let her tell you, it was one _heck_ of a prison. It was _huge._ The thought that there was currently only _one_ prisoner in those uninviting walls was almost mindboggling. It would fill any ordinary man with fear just by looking at it.

Good thing Drista wasn’t a man.

“I have a feeling you want to visit Dream?” Sam asked, crossing his arms.

Drista raised her eyebrows. “Got anybody else in there?”

Sam snorted. “Fair enough,” he said. He turned around. “Come on, security time.”

It turned out that highly fortified prisons came with highly extensive security protocols. And Drista approved of that, for the most part. The potion of weakness was going to make it infinitely harder to get a half-way decent punch in, though. She would just make sure to _fillet_ Dream with her words to make up for it.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Sam warned right before Drista got onto the platform at the edge of a boiling hot pool of lava.

Drista snorted, rolling her eyes. “As if.”

Sam looked unconvinced, but triggered the mechanism anyway, and Drista found herself stepping off the platform and into Dream’s cell.

Dream’s cell was bigger than she expected, Drista was disappointed to note. Drista was also disappointed to observe that Dream was still wearing his stupid mask; she would’ve yanked it off of him before shoving him down here.

Dream was sitting on his bed, his quill scratching against the pages of a book he was writing in. Drista scowled, crossing her arms. She knew that Dream knew she was here. She would really appreciate it if he would acknowledge her, please and thank you.

After maybe ten seconds, Dream looked up.

“Drista?” he asked, as if he had only just noticed that she was here.

“Who did you think it was?” Drista snapped, making sure to infuse all of her fury into her glare.

Dream _smiled_ and _shrugged_. “Tommy, maybe. I thought he was going to start demanding more answers. Honestly, you’re a pleasant surprise.”

_Pleasant surprise?_

Drista bared her teeth, growling. Shoving her sleeves up, she stalked toward Dream. “Oh, well that’s about to change _real_ quick.”

Dream didn’t try to dodge as her fist connected with his mask. The punch was comparably weak in relationship to the punch she had given Niki earlier that day (thanks a lot potion), but it was still mildly cathartic.

Emphasis on _mildly._

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Drista growled, not waiting for Dream to speak, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dream’s smile didn’t fade. “Well, that really depends on what you’re talking about specifically.”

“ _Everything.”_ Drista pointed violently at Dream. “But let’s start with the talk of the town. Why the _hell_ didn’t you tell us that you had a son?”

Dream’s smile faded, but that was about the only thing that changed in his countenance. Heck, even his voice was still as steady and calm as before.

“It didn’t matter,” Dream said easily, “Besides, I had to give him up; I spared you the heartbreak.”

Drista gaped indignantly. “Are you kidding?” she demanded, “Mom and Dad were already taking care of me, what’s another baby to them?”

Dream crossed his arms. “It’s not like that—”

“And you know what makes matters better?” Drista said, trying her best to hold in a hysterical laugh, “You not only have a son, who you never told us anything about, but you _abused, tormented,_ and _manipulated_ him.”

Dream’s smile returned. “What can I say?” He tilted his head slightly. “It was fun.”

Was he kidding? Because Drista wasn’t laughing.

Stumbling forward, Drista grabbed Dream by the collar of his sweater with both of her hands. Maybe if she were a little stronger and taller, she’d be able to actually pick Dream up, Unfortunately, she’d just have to be satisiied with looking up at him furiously.

“Are you insane?!” she shrieked, “That’s all you have to say for yourself? It was fun?! Your son is _terrified_ of you! Doesn’t that make you feel anything?!”

Dream’s smile dropped into a neutral expression, and he moved his head so that it looked like he was looking past Drista instead of at her.

“I gave up attachments, Drista,” he said, “I don’t give a crap.”

“So that’s why you haven’t been answering our texts?” Drista demanded, “Because you gave attachments or something stupid like that? And like that justifies traumatizing your own child?”

“Tommy has been nothing but a thorn in my side since day one,” Dream snapped, “I’m allowed to enact discipline on him, parent or no.”

“You disgust me,” Drista snarled, “He’s a literal kid, and you’re treating him like some public menace that needs to be put down.”

“He was a public menace.” Dream stood up. “But he was getting better under my care until he had to go ahead and ruin things.”

“What?” Drista demanded, “Like running away? Like removing himself from a highly toxic relationship that was killing him?”

“He wouldn’t have died," Dream said shortly.

Drista scoffed, rolling her eyes very exaggeratedly.

“You keep telling yourself that.” She turned toward the pool of lava.

“Sam,” she called out into the void, “I think I’m ready to go.”

Dream didn’t try to make her stay. Drista couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired, so here's the chapter. 
> 
> I also loved the idea of throwing eggs at the egg posters, so i wrote it. 
> 
> I drew a [picture](https://mollypollykinz.tumblr.com/post/643551935404933120/everyone-loves-aunt-drista-from-piece-by-piece-so) of what i imagined Drista to look like in this fic, so you can check that out if you want. 
> 
> Anyway, i'm hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments, and thank you for watching! <3
> 
> (Also, scream at me on [discord](https://discord.gg/kVShqru6) if you want.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More soft conversations before they are abruptly interrupted by one Technoblade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-hate, small blood, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced torture, ptsd

Tommy decided that things were really, really strange.

Drista had just spent a few very enjoyable hours with him, which was great, don’t get him wrong. But… strange, he supposed. When was the last time he hung out with anyone that wasn’t Sam, Puffy, or Tubbo? Or, at least, when was the last time he hung out with anyone other than those three who actually enjoyed his company?

Did Tubbo even enjoy his company? Did Puffy?

Did Sam?

Tommy knew that Sam said he loved Tommy. Tommy would never forget that. But… Wilbur had loved Tommy too. And Tommy would like to believe that, at one point, Dream had loved him. Didn’t most parents hold their newborns in their arms with adoration in their eyes?

Tommy wouldn’t know.

The point was that love didn’t stay. It didn’t matter how _unconditional_ Sam promised it was, that simply wasn’t how the world worked.

Still… now that he was with Tubbo and Puffy… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to breach the subject. See what they thought?

They were currently walking through a spruce forest, a small breeze ruffling Tommy’s hair. Taking a break from the search for Jack, Tubbo had suggested that they gather more materials for the still-incomplete hotel, and Tommy had agreed readily.

As Tubbo chopped at another tree with his axe, Tommy looked anxiously up at Puffy.

“Hey, uh, Captain?” he asked, fidgeting with his sweater sleeves.

Puffy looked over at Tommy and smiled. “Yeah?”

Tommy swallowed, maybe he shouldn’t say anything. He was being foolish. There was no reason to ask Puffy about something so personal.

But… she was a therapist, right? Wasn’t it her job to explain things and crap?

Tommy clenched his fists. “Sam said he loves me.”

Puffy blinked. “Oh,” she said. She didn’t stop smiling. “Well, how did that make you feel?”

Tommy stared at the forest floor. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about this anymore. He wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings. It wasn’t exactly what one would call his forte.

“I… mixed-up, I guess,” Tommy muttered, “I don’t know.”

Tubbo finished with the tree and walked back over to them. “What’re you guys talking about?”

Puffy glanced over to Tommy. Was she reluctant to share anything without his permission? Tommy appreciated the thought, but this concerned Tubbo just as much as it concerned her.

“I was just uh… thinking about something Sam said earlier.” Tommy shifted on his feet, staring up at the blue sky.

“Oh?” Tubbo asked, “And what’s that?”

“He said—” Tommy swallowed a small lump in his throat and looked Tubbo in the eyes. “—He said he loved me.”

Tubbo raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” he said, sounding alarmed, “Is that all?”

Tommy stared. “Is that all—Tubbo, I’m not sure you heard me right.”

Tubbo shook his head, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Nuh-uh, I’m pretty sure I heard you correctly.”

Tommy frowned. “No, I really don’t think you did, or you wouldn’t have said ‘is that all’ like what Sam said is perfectly normal. I think you need your ears checked.”

“Maybe,” Tubbo agreed, “But more due to all of the explosions we’ve both been exposed to than because I heard you wrong.”

Tommy groaned and crossed his arms. “Fine, then what did you hear me say?”

Tubbo smiled. “You said Sam loved you,” Tubbo said, “and that seems pretty reasonable to me. Sam does seem to care about you quite a bit.”

Seriously, Tubbo was in on this too?

“No, I said Sam _said_ he loved me,” Tommy corrected. Tommy knew he was being “That seems like a pretty vital difference.”

“Sam doesn’t lie about these things,” Puffy said softly.

Tommy rolled his eyes. _Anyone_ could lie if they wanted to.

“Fine, Sam _loves_ me.” The words felt strange on Tommy’s tongue. “It’s just weird.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Eh, it’s not _that_ weird,” he said nonchalantly, “I love you. Sam’s not special.”

Tommy stared, unsure if he actually heard Tubbo correctly. Because there was no way that Tubbo just said he _loved_ him. Even though Tommy knew Tubbo meant platonically, it seemed strange. Wrong, even. Why would Tubbo love him? After everything Tommy’s done to ruin Tubbo’s life?

“You don’t have to lie to me, Big T,” Tommy said, trying to keep his voice casual, “I know that you’re just trying to make me feel better, but I know I’m not all that lovable, and besides, it’s not a very manly—”

Tommy let out a small “oof” as Tubbo practically jumped on top of him, wrapping his arms around Tommy.

“I’m not lying,” Tubbo said, “I’m not. I do love you, I don’t care if it’s an unmanly thing for me to say, I’ll say it as many times as it takes for it to sink into that stubborn skull of yours.”

“Tubbo—” Tommy began, gently prying the boy off of him. “Tubbo, I’m not—”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Tubbo started chanting, “I—”

“Okay, okay!” Tommy interrupted, slicing his hands through the air violently in the hopes of getting Tubbo to shut up, “I get it. You’re pretty cool too, man, okay?”

Tommy flushed. Here Tubbo was saying that he _loved_ him, and all Tommy could manage was a stupid _“you’re pretty cool too”_? He had said more to _Dream,_ and that relationship had been a freaking lie.

_“I love you too, Dream.”_

Tommy’s stomach churned at the thought. To be honest, the words felt a little bit like a death sentence.

In spite of Tommy’s less-than-eloquent reply, Tubbo beamed. Heck, if Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d probably say that Tubbo was glowing _._

“Aw, thanks,” he said.

_“I can’t believe you made Tubbo think you were his friend,” Jack had growled as blood rushed down Tommy’s face, “I can’t believe you manipulated him like that.”_

Tommy rammed his eyes shut, but all that succeeded in doing was making the image more vivid in his mind. His heart squeezed, and Tommy snapped them open, forcing himself not to suck in a breath.

He hated stupid memories that decided that now was a perfect time to go ahead and torment Tommy. He really would like to punch them in the face, but that wasn’t really an option.

Tommy turned to Puffy instead. She was still smiling, but her eyes looked sad. Or at least, Tommy thought her eyes looked kind of sad. How was he supposed to know? He wasn’t a psychiatrist. That was Puffy’s job.

“What about you?” he asked, “We’re all pouring our feelings out today, might as well get it over with now so that we can never speak of this again.”

Part of Tommy wanted Puffy to shrug him off, to say that she couldn’t care less, to say that she didn’t love Tommy like Sam and Tubbo apparently did. It would be so much easier that way, so much simpler to have less people bonded to him, less people to hurt him.

Tubbo would never hurt Tommy, not intentionally at least, and Tommy _knew_ that, but…

It was frightening. No, not frightening. Tommy didn’t get frightened. It was just… very risky. Tommy was just being cautious. The more people Tommy trusted to care, the more people Tommy _loved,_ the harder the inevitable separation would be.

Another part of Tommy yearned for Puffy to smile, to say that she did love him, that she would always be there for him, to say that she wouldn’t leave like Phil, and Wilbur, and _Dream._

_But had Dream really left him, if Tommy was the one to run away? Wasn’t Tommy to blame for Dream’s apathy toward Tommy’s wellbeing? Was Dream really apathetic in the first place? Maybe he did care._

No, no, no, Tommy was _not_ going to get mixed-up about this.

Puffy let out a small laugh. “I love you,” she said, “I wasn’t sure if you were tired of the phrase by now. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t.”

Tommy’s eyes burned, and Tommy looked away. He didn’t want them to see him cry. It was embarrassing enough when Tommy sobbed all over Sam (an event that would never be spoken of again); he didn’t want to get his mess all over Tubbo and Puffy too.

“Thanks,” he muttered, staring into the forest.

Wait… was something _moving?_

Tommy peered suspiciously at figure that had appeared in the foliage. They were getting closer and closer, and Tommy could recognize that cloak anywhere…

For a moment, Tommy froze. _Oh god, he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to die—_

Then, he snapped to his senses, instantly grabbing Tubbo by the arm. “Crap,” Tommy said, far too loudly, “Crap, damnit, come on, we need to leave, come on.”

However, before Tommy could even take a step away from Technoblade’s approaching figure, he was there, standing in front of the three of them with his arms crossed.

Tommy did the only logical thing, spitting random crap out of his mouth.

“ _Hey,_ Technoblade,” Tommy said, drawing out his words, “How do? We were just walking in this forest, collecting wood for Sam Nook for the hotel I’m building. Did you know I was building a hotel? Because I am and it’s going to be the best hotel you have ever seen. And you’ll be so jealous of me and my hotel building skills. Well, I guess its technically _Sam’s_ hotel building skills, but I’m paying him so I get all the cred—”

“Tommy,” Technoblade said in a deadpan tone of voice, “I did not coincidentally run into you only to listen to you panic my ear off.”

“I am not panicking!” Tommy shouted, his voice cracking, “I just like talking. _Prime,_ Technoblade, it’s like you don’t even know me anymore. Talking is all I do, because I’m a big man, listen to me talk—”

“Like I said, not why I’m here.” Technoblade massaged his forehead with a sigh.

“What do you want, Technoblade?” Puffy said, her voice more guarded than Tommy typically heard it. Though it made sense; this was _Technoblade_ they were talking about. Technoblade was not a man to be reckoned with.

“I’m glad you asked,” Technoblade said, “You see, I got a rather annoying visitor recently, except this time he wasn’t stealing my stuff.”

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat. Visitor? Could it be Jack? Did Jack tell Techno and Phil? He wouldn’t… right?

Oh, who was Tommy kidding? Of course he would.

Maybe it wasn’t Jack. Maybe Tommy was overthinking things. It could’ve been anyone. It wasn’t exactly _hard_ to annoy Techno.

To Tommy’s surprise, it was Tubbo who spoke next, his voice colder than Tommy had heard it in a long while.

“Who?” he demanded, “Because I happen to be looking for Mr. Manifold.”

“Ah, I had a feeling.” Technoblade nodded, like he was having a distinguished conversation among dinner guests. “See, now I can’t know for sure, but from what I gathered on Doomsday—” Tommy bristled at the mention. “—Jack kind of hates my guts, not that I blame the guy or anything.”

“So, Jack is with you?” Tommy demanded sharply.

“Tommy, maybe you should go back to Sam and Drista,” Puffy said softly, “I can deal with Technoblade.”

_“Quiet Tommy, the adults are speaking.”_

Tubbo was clearly having a very similar thought, if the way Tubbo was gently tugging at Tommy’s sleeve was anything to go by.

Tommy stubbornly stayed where he was. He wasn’t a _child._ If Techno wanted to talk to Tommy, he could talk to Tommy. Tommy _wasn’t_ going to run away from this. He refused to be a coward.

“No.” Tommy glared at Technoblade. “So, what did Jack say to you, jerk? Did he say that I’m some evil psychopath that wants to kill everyone on the server? Because I don’t. I want to live my screwing life, so tell him to leave me alone.”

Techno hummed. “Well, he didn’t exactly say it _that_ way.” Techno tilted his head, like he was considering something. “It was more like, he dropped on our front door step with a gnarly gash on his arm, saying that he was running away from you because you attacked him.”

Tommy opened his mouth to retaliate, but once again, it was Tubbo who spoke first.

“What the hell?” he demanded, “Tommy didn’t attack anyone!”

Technoblade eyed Tubbo suspiciously.

“Well, here’s where things get _especially_ interesting,” Techno continued, “he said—”

“Techno,” Puffy interrupted, stepping a little closer to Tommy and Tubbo, “I’d be careful about what I say next if I were you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Techno asked, a small grin playing on his face, “Because if you are, it’s not going to work out for you. Trust me, I would know.”

“Maybe I am,” Puffy said, crossing her arms, “It depends on what you say next.”

“Fine,” Techno said, “I’m just telling you how it went, okay? You can’t get mad at me for that.”

Puffy glanced back at Tommy, who nodded resolutely. He needed to hear what Jack had said about him. He needed to know what Phil and Techno had been told.

“Okay, I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” Techno said, rolling his eyes, “ _Anyway,_ Phil asked Jack why Tommy would attack him, and _he_ said that you were working with _Dream_ of all people.”

Tommy stiffened. Both Tubbo squeezed his hand gently, and Puffy put a hand on his shoulder.

The motion was not unnoticed by Technoblade, either.

“Yeah, I thought it was a bit of a stretch myself.” He gestured at Tommy. “I mean, you and Dream don’t exactly have what I would call a ‘chummy’ relationship, especially considering that you kinda stuck the man in a prison.”

Tommy swallowed. “Did you tell him that?”

Techno nodded. “Yeah, I did. And you know what he said that I found _really_ interesting?”

Tommy had a suspicion, and it made him feel sick.

“What?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“He said that Dream, _Dream_ mind you, was your father.” Techno snorted. “Well, at that point, I knew the poor man had been knocked in the head by his attacker, because that was absurd, but then he showed us this photo—”

“So what?” Tommy snarled, “There’s a stupid photo with my name on it. _So what?_ That doesn’t mean I was working with that-that green _monster,_ and that doesn’t mean I attacked Jack.”

“Okay, well, any guilty man would say that—”

“Jack attacked me, moron!” Tommy screamed, yanking himself away from Puffy and Tubbo. “Jack and Niki cornered me with intentions of _killing_ me! But then they saw that stupid photo, and they jumped to conclusions, so now I have _this_!”

Tommy yanked his sweater sleeve up and began unwrapping the bandage around his forearm. The bandage quickly unraveled, and Tubbo was quick to catch it before it hit the dirt.

Tommy got only one sickening glimpse at the still slightly bloody word on his arm before he thrust it into Techno’s face, moving his arm awkwardly for it to be right-side up.

“I’m _sorry_ that my father decided to be an evil manipulative monster.” Tommy’s voice was shaking now. “And maybe I’m one too, but I did not attack Jack, and I did not orchestrate Wilbur’s death or whatever other crap Jack’s been giving you.”

Tommy took vicious pleasure at the shock and horror that flashed in Techno’s eyes, and he let his arm drop to his side. 

“But if you want to see me as evil and try to kill me, join the club." He let out a bitter laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

And with that, he spun around and marched away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I really wanted to write a prison fic on Monday, so I did, and then I got held up on some other works. 
> 
> Anyway, Technoblade joins the scene for now. Tommy's starting to return to the anger stage of grief. 
> 
> I stan queerplatnoic Tommy and Tubbo and you can pry that away from my cold dead hands. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments, and thank you for reading! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get hugs and comfort.
> 
> only hugs
> 
> definitely nothing else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: self-hatred, kinda self-harm, mentioned death, implied/referenced child abuse, guilt, creepy egg

Tommy’s walking became a sprint, and he didn’t stop running until he could see the ruins of L’manberg again.

L’manberg. Wilbur’s unfinished symphony. One of the only things Tommy had left of Wilbur. Something Dream destroyed. Dream destroyed it and said it was fun. Tommy could hear Phil’s laughter as the withers spawned echo in his head. Technoblade shouting at him.

Exhaustion hit him like a punch to the gut, and Tommy collapsed to his knees, trying not to cry. His entire body hurt, which he supposed was a natural consequence of running around when Tommy was still hurt from the recent torture session with Niki and Jack.

He didn’t want to think about L’manberg. He didn’t want to think about Wilbur. And the last thing Tommy wanted to think about was Techno.

Instead, Tommy stared at the un-bandaged word on his arm. _Monster._

_“You killed Wilbur, you monster!”_

Tommy didn’t want Wilbur to die. Wilbur was kind to him before Pogtopia poisoned his mind. Tommy missed Wilbur, as much as he hated to admit it.

No. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about Wilbur. Think about something else.

He pressed his thumb against the jagged ‘o’ on his forearm, allowing the pain to ground him, to distract him from the crater covered in blood red vines.

“Tommy?”

Tommy snapped his head up toward Tubbo. His cheeks were pink and his hair looked windswept. Tubbo must’ve ran to catch up with Tommy. Made sense.

Tubbo was still tightly holding the Tommy’s bandage in his fist, and Tommy immediately covered up the word with his hand. Tubbo didn’t need to see that.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Tommy said quietly, surprised by how hoarse his voice was.

Tubbo sat down at Tommy’s right, looking down at the bandage in his hands. “I can, uh, help you with this,” Tubbo said.

Tommy didn’t want Tubbo to help. Tommy didn’t want Tubbo to see the word carved into his skin any more than he already had.

But Tommy didn’t want to look at it anymore either, and wrapping a bandage around his own arm was incredibly tricky business.

“Fine,” Tommy conceded. He held his arm out in front of Tubbo, making sure that the word was facing the ground.

Tubbo bit his lip. “Sorry,” he said, looking pained, “But I can’t wrap the bandage properly if I can’t see the cuts.”

Tommy winced, but he shut his eyes and flipped his arm around. He heard Tubbo suck in a breath.

As Tubbo gently grabbed his arm and began wrapping the bandage back around, he said, “You know that isn’t true, right?”

Tubbo’s voice was wavering, and Tommy wondered if he was about to cry. Opening his eyes, he glanced over to Tubbo. Sure enough, Tubbo’s eyes seemed to be getting red.

Guilt pooled in Tommy’s gut.

“Of course, I do,” Tommy said, trying to sound nonchalant. Instead he only felt like he was lying. “C’mon Tubbo, I’m not _stupid.”_

He was stupid. Tommy was _stupid, and pathetic, and selfish, and ungrateful._

“I know you’re not,” Tubbo said almost done wrapping the bandage, “But—“ Tubbo’s voice closed off suddenly.

“Tubbo?” Tommy asked. Tubbo sniffed loudly, rubbing tears away from his eyes. “What’s wrong big man? You don’t have to worry about me, it’s just a scratch—”

“Shut up,” Tubbo said, his voice thick, “It’s not just a scratch—”

Tommy tilted his head. “I mean, if we think about the definition of a scratch…”

Tubbo scowled, tears now streaming down his face as he finished off the bandage. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Tommy grimaced. Now he was making Tubbo upset. Why couldn’t he do _anything_ right? “Tubbo, please don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

Tubbo started sobbing at that, and before Tommy could even think, Tubbo was wrapping his arms around him. Tommy tensed up, confused. Tubbo was upset, but he was still hugging Tommy.

 _He’s upset for you,_ a voice that sounded like Sam whispered in his mind, _He’s not upset with you._

Tommy sunk into Tubbo’s arms, allowing Tubbo to sob into Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy held back his own tears. He was a big man; he didn’t need to cry.

Tommy let out an awkward laugh. “You always were clingy—”

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo blubbered, “You’re the one that’s hurt, and I’m just sitting here _crying—”_

Why is _Tubbo_ apologizing?

“Why the hell are you sorry?” Tommy demanded, “You aren’t the worthless—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Tubbo said.

Tommy slammed his mouth shut and allowed himself to sink deeper into Tubbo’s embrace. He closed his eyes, causing a single tear to slip free and roll down his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy muttered, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Tubbo shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “You always get hurt because of me—”

Tommy clutched Tubbo closer to himself. “No,” he said forcefully, “None of that was your fault.”

“Then why do you insist on making everything yours?” Tubbo demanded, “You carry the weight _everything,_ Tommy, don’t you get tired of it?”

Tommy laughed. “Of course, I get tired of it. It’s pretty damn tiring.”

“Then why do you do it?” Tubbo pleaded, “Why can’t you just stay in the background for once? Why do you have to be in the middle of everything?”

_“You’re too fun.” “You want to be the hero, Tommy?” “Every hero needs an origin story.”_

“I’m the hero, Tubbo.” Tommy tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out bitter, subdued. “It’s kind of in the job description.”

Tubbo squeezed Tommy closer, causing Tommy to suck in a breath. _He was safe, this was just Tubbo, Tubbo wasn’t angry, he was only worried, he was safe, he was safe, he—_

Tubbo immediately loosened his hold, instead clutching tightly onto Tommy’s sweater. He looked Tommy in the eyes, and Tommy couldn’t help but to be startled by the intensity of the tear-streaked gaze.

“Then don’t be the hero,” Tubbo begged, “Let’s just leave. Let’s just get away from everything. We can run away, remember?”

Tommy remembered. Tommy remembered when things were simpler. And wasn’t that a depressing thought? The fact that Tommy considered Wilbur’s plunge into insanity in the depths of that damn ravine a _simpler time._

A part of Tommy wanted to take Tubbo up on that offer. Freedom from the wars, freedom from the pain, freedom from the people who had _hurt_ him.

But… Tommy wasn’t sure he’d be willing to leave without Sam or Puffy. And would they be willing to leave? Especially with this stupid egg conflict that was going on? Tommy wasn’t so sure.

Besides, Tommy still had questions. Questions that needed answers. Answers that Tommy could only find here.

“I’ll try not to be the hero,” Tommy said, “But we can’t leave.”

_You’re too fun, you’re too fun, you’re too fun, you’re too—_

Puffy’s voice broke through the echo-chamber in Tommy’s mind, Dream’s voice bouncing back and forth like a ball.

“Hey boys,” she said, sitting down next to Tubbo and Tommy’s hugging forms, “I talked to Techno.”

Tommy didn’t want to leave the hug with Tubbo, and Tubbo was probably clinging onto him too tightly for Tommy to even try to attempt to leave it anyway. But he felt awkward to see Puffy sitting there as a strange third wheel.

Still, his mind was more preoccupied with Puffy’s conversation with Technoblade after Tommy _yelled_ in his face and _stormed_ off like a stupid child.

“What did he say?” Tommy asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

“He wasn’t mad at you,” Puffy said instantly, “He looked actively livid toward Jack though. He said he’d deal with him. I told him that we needed Jack in our custody.”

Relief seeped into Tommy’s veins, and Tommy felt himself relax even farther into Tubbo’s arms. He stared at Puffy, and he awkwardly extended an arm out to her.

“You wanna… um…” God, what was he even doing? Tommy let his hand drop. “Never mind.”

To Tommy’s surprise, Tubbo began reaching for Puffy, making grabby hands. “Puffy, join the hug!”

Puffy smiled softly. “Of course.”

Tommy let out a startled but pleased laugh as Puffy wrapped her arms around them, adding a new layer of warmth.

“You really are clingy,” he informed Tubbo.

Tubbo smiled. “It’s worth it,” he said promptly, “This is feels pretty good if you ask me.”

Tommy nodded sleepily. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “Yeah, it does feel pretty good.”

He vaguely felt something hot and slimy wrap itself around his ankle, and Tommy automatically kicked his foot back. That only served to make the grip around his ankle tighter.

Before Tommy could even panic, however, a soft voice echoed inside his head. It sounded familiar. Warm. Safe.

 _“Sleep, my child,”_ the voice whispered, _“Sleep.”_

Tommy eyes felt heavy, and he allowed the darkness to engulf him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, sorry guys, that's just the way things worked out. (shortest chapter in the fic so far, just kill me now)
> 
> On the bright side, the plot is about to speed up, so that's cool. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, please be nice in the comments, and I hope you enjoyed! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno confronts one Manifold, and Tommy speaks to one egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: thoughts of violence and murder, manipulation, referenced torture, referenced child abuse, the egg, 
> 
> final reminder that tommy's mother is an OC and she is NOT A HORSE.

Techno was _furious._

That in itself was nothing particularly new. Techno was furious often. It was almost his thing. Somebody ticks him off; Techno gets mad; that person is dead.

But _now,_ Techno was livid, feral, _bloodthirsty_ as he walked back to his home.

The chat drowned out any of the voices who supported the _lying snake_ who went by the name of Jack Manifold.

_Blood, blood, blood, blood. **JACK MANIFOLD IS ABOUT TO BE JACK MANIDEAD.** PUNTING JACK. **TEAM ROCKET IS ABOUT TO BE BLASTED OFF.** BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD_

Now, one might be asking themselves, why did Techno care so much? Techno had expressed nothing but hatred and anger toward Tommy in the past, especially after Tommy betrayed him _twice._ Techno had hurt and killed his own fair share of people in the past, so Techno shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he saw Tommy’s thoroughly bandaged form.

But if there was one thing Techno hated above all else, it was being _deceived_.

Jack had come to Techno with an ugly gash on his arm saying that _Tommy_ had attacked him, saying that _Tommy_ was working with Dream, saying that _Tommy_ was Dream’s son, and then showing them a photo of Dream holding someone who was _definitely_ baby Tommy in his arms.

And now it turned out that while, yes, Dream was Tommy’s sperm donor, _Jack_ was the one who attacked Tommy. _Jack_ was the one who cornered his ex-associate—once brother, Techno recalled painfully—and _tortured_ him. _Jack_ was the one who played Phil and Techno like a piece in a chess game.

And that made Techno _livid._

However, it was strange. Jack wasn’t an idiot, but he wasn’t exactly what one would call subtle either, especially considering that Jack hated Technoblade with a passion. When did Jack learn to manipulate people so well? Sure, he was no _Dream,_ but he certainly had Phil and Techno fooled, so…

Ugh, Techno looking into this too much.

As Techno approached his humble abode, he vaguely realized that it might have been prudent to call Phil about all of this. Oh well, Techno always did enjoy dramatic reveals.

And it _would_ be dramatic.

Techno barged through the door of his house, probably looking like a predator hunting for his prey. In a way, he was.

Phil looked up from the book he was reading, looking startled.

“Hey, mate—”

“Where’s Jack?” Techno demanded.

_WHERE IS HE. **HE NEEDS TO PAY FOR HIS CRIMES.** BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD._

Phil frowned. “He’s upstairs,” he said, “Techno, what’s—”  
“I’ll tell you later,” Techno said brusquely, already clambering up the ladder.

If Phil wanted to know what was going on, he could feel free to follow Technoblade up the ladder. If not, Techno would just fill him in after Manifold’s body was cooling on the floor.

Techno found Jack Manifold leaning against the wall, staring at his bandaged arm with vague interest.

“Mr. Manifold,” Techno said, making sure his voice was colder than the nether was hot, “I have made a rather interesting discovery.”

Jack looked up at Techno, giving him a rather bored look. “Oh yeah?” he asked, “And what is that?”

“Well, you know your pal Tommy—”

“He is not my pal,” Jack growled, “He—”

“Nope,” Techno said, pointing violently at Jack. Jack jumped. “I am not done speaking.”

_Ooooh, you’re in troubbble. **Jack is about to be punted to space.** MAYBE HE WILL LAND IN THE SUN. **WOULDN’T THAT BE NICE.**_

Techno took a step toward Jack for dramatic effect. One had to understand, he needed to be as intimidating as possible.

“I was talking to your _mortal-enemy_ TommyInnit,” Techno continued, making sure to lay on the sarcasm excessively, “Trying to figure out what was fact and what was fiction when it came to your _riveting_ tale of woe.”

Jack scowled, his eyes barely visible under those multi-colored glasses of his. “You seriously expect the guilty party to tell you the truth—”

“No, actually,” Techno interrupted, taking another large step forward, “But nobody ever confirmed that _you_ were the innocent party.”

“I’d say my arm is pretty incriminating!” Jack protested, waving the bandaged article in Techno’s face.

“And you know what I’d say to that?” Techno demanded, taking a final step so that he was towering menacingly over Mr. Manifold, “I’d say that Tommy’s arm is _far_ more incriminating than yours.”

Jack’s face visibly paled, and Techno _relished_ it.

Techno would never, _never_ forget the raw hurt on Tommy’s face as he brandished the word messily cut into his arm. _Monster._ Like _Tommy_ was the monster. Like Tommy wasn’t a teenager who constantly got in over his head. Like Tommy was the one who enjoyed destroying countries.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack said, “I mean, obviously I fought back, who do you take me for—”

Techno grabbed Manifold by the shoulders, slamming him against the wall. Manifold let out a startled shout. Out of Techno’s peripheral vision, he saw Phil enter the room.

“Yeah… I don’t think carving a word into a child’s skin really counts as _fighting back,”_ Technoblade said through gritted teeth, “I think most people know it as a method of _torture.”_

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack said, his voice shaking.

“Tell me, _Jack,”_ Techno snarled, “What would possess you to torture a child who is as much as a victim as you? Why would you torture a kid who has no control over his parentage, who has been dealt a pretty crap hand in life, and has been trying to live in peace?”

“Nobody’s possessing me,” Jack snapped defensively, “And I thought you hated the kid, aren’t you being a little hypocritical?”

“I don’t hunt him down to torture him,” Techno said, pulling out his sword and letting the edge rest comfortably on Jack’s neck, “And what do you mean ‘nobody’s possessing me’?”

“Exactly what I said.” Jack was quivering, although Techno couldn’t tell whether it was form fear or from anger. “I am not possessed.”

Alright, well that was incredibly suspicious.

“Ok…” Techno said slowly, “I’m sorry, but that sounds a lot like something a possessed person would say.”

“I am _not!”_ Jack protested, “I thought we were talking about Tommy? Why are you harping on this?”

“Because, mate,” Phil said, his voice sounding dark, “Most of us don’t act so defensive over a common phrase.”

_EGG? **EGG?** Possession? **DOESN’T MATTER LETS KILL HIM ANYWAY.** EGGG???_

Puffy had told him about the egg when she rightly yelled at Technoblade for being an idiot. She warned him that it was going around taking over people’s minds, and typically you could tell from the redness in their eyes.

Jack was wearing sunglasses. Techno couldn’t see his eyes.

“Jack, I’m going to need you to take off your glasses,” Techno said, “Or things are going to get very messy, very fast.”

“Can’t exactly do that pinned to the wall like this, can I?” Jack sassed, “How about you—”

“No, no, you’re right,” Technoblade interrupted, not in the mood to hear any more of this man’s crap. He looked over to Phil, whose face was a mix of anger and shock. “Phil, would you like to do the honors?”

“Gladly,” Phil said, walking closer to Jack and plucking the multi-colored glasses off of his face.

“Hey!” Jack shouted, glaring at both Techno and Phil.

“Well crap,” Techno said.

Jack’s eyes were red.

Tommy didn’t know where he was.

He seemed to be in a void of some kind, but it was red, like the ‘sky’ in the nether, almost. There was no sound, no feeling, no smells. It was like he was floating, except he was definitely standing on something.

“Hello?” he called out.

His voice echoed, which was strange, because there was nothing for the sound to bounce off of.

“Hello?!” Tommy called out again, this time more panicked. Where was everyone? Where was he? What had happened? “Tubbo?! Puffy?!”

He got no response, their names only echoing back toward him.

Tommy spun around, trying to press down the franticness that was threatening to overcome him.

“Tubbo?! Sam?! SAM?!”

Nothing. Tommy’s frantic cry for Sam echoed repeatedly, and it did nothing to calm Tommy down.

“ANYBODY?!” No answer. “HELLO?!”

Tommy couldn’t breathe. Where was everyone? Why was he alone? He needed to find someone, he couldn’t be alone like this, he couldn’t be—

“Hello, my child,” a beautiful, soft, comforting voice said, cutting through the panic.

Tommy turned toward the sound of the voice and stared.

A beautiful woman stood in front of him. Her red hair rolled off of her shoulders like a river; her red eyes glowed like lava; her sleek red dress looked like an outfit from one of the myths Techno used to read to him.

Tommy was so enthralled that he barely comprehended the fact that the woman had walked up to him, and it wasn’t until she gently rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder that Tommy instinctively flinched away.

“Who-who are you?” he asked, his throat dry.

The woman smiled, and she was _so beautiful._ She looked as though she held all the secrets of the world, as though Tommy only need to ask and he’d be granted any wish.

“I am a friend,” she said.

The word jerked Tommy back to reality.

_“We’re friends, Tommy, aren’t we?” “That’s what friends do.” “I’m your friend.” “I need my friend, I need Dream.” “You betrayed me, Tommy! I was your friend!” “I actually made you think you were my friend!”_

Tommy stumbled back, and he didn’t miss the way the woman’s face flashed with something _far more terrifying than ordinary anger,_ but it was gone in an instant. She smiled again, looking patient, almost like Sam, and Tommy found himself relaxing involuntarily.

“I want your name,” Tommy said, embarrassed to hear how high-pitched his voice had become, “Who are you?”

“I go by many names,” the woman said, her voice still sweet and melodic, “Some have called me their love, and others have named me their worst enemy. But I don’t want to be your enemy, Tommy.”

“I asked for your _name,_ not a freaking riddle,” Tommy snapped, hating how his voice trembled, hating how this whole situation was giving him the heebie-jeebies, hating how he both loved and was terrified of the woman standing before him.

The woman sighed, and Tommy instinctively flinched.

“Very well,” she said, “Your friends know me as ‘the egg’.”

A shudder ran through Tommy’s entire body, and Tommy instinctively took a few large steps backward.

 _“What?”_ Tommy whispered, his voice cracking, “But-but I’m _immune,_ I can’t _hear_ you, _how—”_

“You are a curious child,” the woman, the _Egg,_ interrupted, tilting her head at Tommy like he was some difficult equation. It was different from the way Dream would tilt his head at him, but Tommy hated it all the same. “Your skin is immune to my call, but your blood is not.”

That sounded as weird as heck.

“What the hell does that mean?” Tommy demanded.

“One of my followers put a thin layer of my vines on his knife,” she explained, summoning a knife seemingly out of thin air.

Tommy flinched, trying not to think of the way Jack’s knife _cut into his skin and it had hurt so bad why—_

“All it would’ve taken was a single cut. I never meant for him to go as far as he did.” The woman, or egg, or whatever, gave him a regretful look.

Tommy let out a shocked laugh, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to hide the bandage.

“You’re kidding,” he said, “There’s no way, there’s _no way…”_

No way what? No way Jack would do that? Jack had proven himself capable of nearly anything these days. No way Tommy was talking to a sentient egg lady? Well that wasn’t true, as he clearly _was_ talking to one, unless he was dreaming, but all of this felt _far_ too real for a dream.

“I truly am sorry,” the Egg said, her voice soft and remorseful, her glowing eyes looking heartbroken, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Are you kidding?” Tommy demanded, “Your ‘followers’ have tried to kill me!”

“They were misguided,” she replied, not missing a beat, “I’ve only ever wanted to help you.”

She walked toward Tommy and gently caressed his cheek. Tommy shuddered, but he didn’t move away from the touch. He felt trapped, because where else could he go?

“Wouldn’t you like that?” the woman whispered, so soft, so welcoming, “Wouldn’t you like to be helped for once?”

The words slipped out of Tommy’s mouth before he could even consider it.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Yeah, I would.”

The woman smiled, and Tommy felt a warm thrill rise up in his chest. “I could help you,” she whispered, running her fingers through Tommy’s hair, “I could give you anything you wanted.”

“Anything?” Tommy whispered.

The woman rested her hand on Tommy’s shoulder as she pressed her palm against the side of his face with her other, her fingers gently toying with Tommy’s hair.

“I could take the pain away,” she promised, “You could live in a world where none of this happened, where you can be safe.”

Tommy hadn’t been safe in a long time.

“Would my friends be there?” Tommy asked, entranced.

“Yes,” she said, smiling wider, “Your Sam would be there, and your Tubbo would be there, and even that Captain would find her way. You could live in peace.”

Peace… it was so tempting, just within reach. A life without Dream. A life without wars. A life where he could be _happy._

But… Tommy wasn’t sure if he could live another lie. Tommy wasn’t sure if he could handle living a fake life like the one he did in exile. His relationship with Dream was already a lie, and he’d prefer not to make his relationship with Sam one as well.

“I-I can’t,” Tommy stuttered, “I don’t-I don’t think I want—”

 _“Tommy,”_ a voice echoed overhead, sounding a lot like Sam, “ _Tommy, can you hear me?”_

Tommy looked up, searching for the source of the voice. “Sam?” he asked, “Sam, is that—"

“Don’t listen to him,” the Egg said, her voice louder and more powerful than before, “Keep your eyes on me.”

Tommy’s eyes snapped toward the Egg’s, and he found himself once again enthralled by the glowing in her eyes, like the lava that used to seem like a warm embrace.

“You want answers,” she continued, her voice sweet, “If not peace, you want knowledge. You search for truths that very few know.”

That much was true. Questions echoed in his mind constantly, always hanging over him, always seeming to be unanswered. Did Dream ever love him? Why did Dream leave him? What was his mother like? Was Dream ever a good person? Was Tommy a good person? Why did Dream _hate_ him so much?

“Yeah,” Tommy replied, his throat dry, “Yeah, I have questions.”

 _“Tommy, I need you to wake up,”_ Sam’s voice was louder this time, and Tommy wondered what on earth Sam meant. He _was_ awake. Tommy started looking about himself, trying to see if there were any clues to this mystery.

The Egg squeezed his shoulder, and Tommy snapped his attention back to her.

“I could answer them,” she said gently, “I could give you all of the answers.”

“How?” Tommy asked, his throat dry.

“Your father has touched my vines—” Tommy shuddered at Dream being referred as _his father._ “—I hold his memories. I remember what he holds dear.”

Tommy scoffed. “He doesn’t care about anything,” he said, “So clearly your memory is a little screwed.”

“I know the name of your mother,” the woman’s voice was becoming staticky. What was happening? Tommy could see and hear her so clearly before, and now she was disappearing.

“Tommy.” Sam’s voice was much closer now, much more reachable, “Wake up.”

Tommy didn’t look away from the woman fading in view. “Who?” he demanded, “Who is my mother?”

The woman smiled.

_“Spirit.”_

And everything disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: This has already started popping up in comments, but Dream did NOT name his horse in this au. I will explain that later. And no, Tommy's mother is NOT A HORSE, please.
> 
> Listen, Jack is still a terrible person, the egg's influence does not actually excuse all of his actions. 
> 
> My portrayal of the egg is partially inspired by the wandavision au KayveeWrites wrote. 
> 
> Um... yep, i hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments, and thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Next up: Sam pov

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't the first person to come up with this concept (I've seen it before but I can't remember exactly where), but I decided I wanted to write my own take on the idea. Some of this was originally posted on [tumblr](https://mollypollykinz.tumblr.com/).


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